Phantasmic Daydreams
by Silent Nightengale
Summary: Need I say more? We all have wished for a real life Erik at one time or another I'm sure, or created one to serve various purposes; my Erik is my confidant and I stow our confidences here for your amusement.
1. For the Sake of Boredom

_**Previously "Phantasmic Daydreams;" fully edited and revamped! I'm sorry for any confusion and inconvenience.**_

**Okay, so there isn't much of a point to this, but hey, it blew off steam and occupied my time and perhaps it will amuse you. I noticed that some people do a daydream/conversation with Erik about random stuff and one day after school I was really bored (Erik: They don't care; get on with it.) Shut up- so yeah. Here's this. Sorry if you have no idea what I'm talking about; hazard of anonymity I guess. –S.N.**

For the Sake of Boredom

I sit at a near empty lunch table in the near empty cafeteria of Patriot High School, at four-something on a Thursday.

"It's very lonely without the seniors," I say idly to the brooding figure at my side.

"Not so lonely; there are other students around." Erik murmurs dryly.

"Yeah; idiots." I sigh. "The cafeteria is just so dull sometimes after four."

"I could kill someone," Erik offers, in perhaps too cheerfully helpful a manner, and glances around eagerly. His gaze settles on the gangly, geeky blond reading on the other side of the table. "Him for instance."

I know exactly who he's talking about but I glance up anyway, smiling. "Sure, why not?"

"Incredible how oblivious he is. He doesn't even realize I'm plotting a tortuous death for him." Gives me a sideways glance as I laugh. (Blondie is still oblivious) "And yet if you moved so much as a finger, he'd snap to attention."

"Yeah, he's like that. Unfortunately. Ever since before homecoming. It's not like I encourage him; as if I ever would. He's so weird, thinks he's witty, and looks like a bad mix of Sherlock Holmes and Watson."

Erik quietly lets himself get a little worked up thinking about it. "The way he fawns over you! Bah! It makes me sick. I'd like nothing more than to wring his scrawny neck right now."

Wrapped up in his little tirade, he fails to observe Blondie leaving.

"He's left, you know."

The ever watchful Opera Ghost starts and looks about sharply. "Damn! I wasn't paying attention. Why did he leave?"

"Probably going to see if his mom's ready to go home. There's a possibility he'll be back…"

"I hope so."

"I don't!"

"Well, how can I torture him if he isn't here?" he asks matter of factly.

"True, true…"

My phone vibrates. I open it and read a text from my friend Beast.

"Who is that?"

"Beast?" Distracted by new text, I laugh, respond and look up to find Erik glaring at me. "What?"

"Who is he?" Eyes begin to smolder like coals.

"Oh my God, relax; he's just a friend." Erik raises eyebrows incredulously. "Best friend; we act together okay? He's gonna choreograph "Memory" for me to sing."

Erik clearly disbelieves the 'best friend' claim and feigns hurt. "Why did you not come to me for that?"

"I didn't go to him; he suggested it. Besides, you're imaginary, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." he says with a troubled frown.

"Come now, no pouting. You're still my muse!" I playfully ruffle his hair, and then notice the clock on the wall. "Uh oh, it's ten to five; the bingo ladies are gonna kick us out."

"I could strike great and terrible fear into their hearts to make them leave." Once again, he sounds way too hopeful.

"Down boy. Mom'll be here soon anyway; let's go." Erik huffs a breath and pouts, but follows me out. Of course, not without leaving a booby trapped chair for some unsuspecting old lady to fall on her butt…


	2. Because I Might as Well Continue

**This one's probably even more obscure than the first, but whatever; I wrote it so I may as well post it, right? It's all practice in some form or another. **

**Of course I only own the Erik in my head that is based on the works of other more intelligent writers and composers.**

~ Because I Might as Well Continue ~

Now we sit, or rather, I sit on; Erik stands by, a bench in front of the school, the both of us watching the retreating figure of a boy as he crosses the grass to the parking lot. Erik takes a step forward, glaring coldly at him.

"I have to agree with your sister on this one; I'm not sure I like that Taco kid holding you like that."

"It's rainy. He was just holding me in his lap to keep me warm and out of the wet."

"Really now? He kissed your neck."

"I kind of like that. Him kissing me from time to time. Makes me feel special."

"And that attempted French last week?"

"Lay off. He's apologized for that twice now and I've told him clearly where the boundaries are; no lips."

"He got a bit close to the line with that kiss goodbye."

"Not intentionally, I'm sure." I say a little uneasily.

Erik grins triumphantly, then studies me perched on the edge of the wet bench. Sighing he moves me onto his lap and wraps his cloak around us both.

"Oh really, Sir Hypocrite?"

"No gentleman would let a young lady sit under a dripping tree without a coat." he says, grumbling slightly.

"Mm-hmm." I smile smugly and mischievously snuggle closer. "Cozy in here."

"Oh, be quiet."

I laugh. "So since this attempt at alleviating boredom has already ended up including several of those of the male persuasion, shall I vent about the guy I want to ask me out?"

"For Christ's sake…"

**Yeah, that's it. Not all that exciting I know. Maybe you'll get a vent about that last guy maybe not; it all depends on my inspiration. **

_**Wow, what a difference a few months make. Some of the stuff I say that I wouldn't even think now...**_


	3. PreCalculus

**More! And so soon after the last posting! It's a miracle!**

~ Pre-Calculus ~

Ah, non-essential summer classes. The excuse to get up almost as early as you would have for school and, guess what, go to school, or rather a school. That is University of Flight, of which most of my family is an alumna or alumni depending on gender, and in five years I myself hope to be. But at 8:45 on a weekday in June, a classroom isn't exactly ones ideal place to be. If only I wasn't such an over achiever.

"I may as well write here as anywhere. We've got forty-five minutes until it starts and nothing better to do to take up the time."

Erik throws me a somewhat contemptuous look. "So why do you insist on getting here so early then?"

I shrug. "Dad comes in early and I don't feel like sitting in his office.. Besides, I like the 'me time'."

"Are you suggesting I should leave?" he asks bitterly.

"Of course not, you don't count."

"Thanks ever so much." he says dryly.

Kicking him lightly. "Don't pout; you know what I mean."

" Hmph."

I poke at him playfully and lean towards him. "Come on where would I be without you? Didn't you see all the reviews and such we've already gotten for those first two conversations?"

"With yourself. I am imaginary, remember?"

"So?"

"Fan girls…" he sighs as he rolls his eyes in exasperation.

"Don't call me a fan girl." I frown.

"I hate to point out the obvious, but you are one."

"Yes, but I like to think I'm more than the stereotypical, shallow, simpering, groupie. Unfortunately, that's the case with fan girls a healthy percentage of the time."

He considers me for a moment. "Well I do not think you are one of those." He pauses again, thinking. "Would phan girl be better?"

"It's probably been used before, but I'll take it…"

"That's that then." Erik sighs and slumps down in a desk. "This is dull."

"What, sitting here?"

"Doing nothing. It is terribly dull. And what is the point?"

"A Calculus credit I won't have to deal with later on."

"Oh. Right." He falls quiet for a moment, looking around the room. "Chalkboards, chalkboards everywhere and not a piece to write with…"

"There's usually a box lying on the front desk."

"Well, apparently there isn't today!" he snaps.

Incredibly amused by how sharply he said that, "So now you're mad because there's no chalk? If you want to write or whatever, you can borrow my notebook."

Gives me a look. "The one you are using to document our conversation?"

"Good point." I think a moment. "My sketchbook's in my bag?"

"It is full. You need to go to Meijer's for a new one, remember?"

"Damn. … Engineering paper?"

Closely examining the pad. "Not enough."

"Then suck it up and stop complaining."

"Fine!" Erik sulks off to the side, and begins playing with the window air conditioner. (Probably rigging the thing to blow up or something.) After a little bit he turns around and looks thoughtful. "Why is 'phan girl' better than 'fan girl'?"

"What now?"

"Your preference of label; why is 'phan' better than 'fan'?"

"In terms of showing how pitifully obsessed I am it's actually probably worse, but its better because adding a 'ph'-- as in PHantom? Id est, YOU?-- makes any word much cooler."

"Indeed, your word 'Phantasmic' certainly attracted attention." he laughs contemptuously and rolls his eyes thinking of the other crazy phan girls who, like me, get excited when they discover such words.

"Like before, someone else probably already uses it too, but the first time I entered it into my vocabulary was for that boy at Madame Butterfly last year."

"Christ! Another one?"

Raising my eyebrows innocently. "How now, dear? Not jealous?"

Erik growls softly.

" I never even knew his name." I say with a grin. "He was just some guy leaning against a pillar at intermission. But, wow, what a guy. I never did get a close look at his face, but he was tall and lean, like you--"

Erik snarls. I ignore him.

"--and had on a dark shirt and black pants; a combination that's always attractive. And he had long blond hair that fell over his face because his head was down so he looked through his hair in a very sexy way."

"Blond? Like Raoul?" Erik sneers.

"Yes, blond, and no, not like Raoul, because this boy was dark and gorgeous and phantasmic was the best description my brain could come up with to describe him."

Erik briefly distracted by the entrance of other kids. "Who are—oh, other students."

"Well, it is 9:10. That's usually when they start showing up."

With an effort he turns away from sending death glares at the new people, who are a source of annoyance rather than the relief of dullness one might expect. Don't ask me why; you know Erik.

"And you never saw him again?"

Listening to another conversation. "Yeah, this is the last class, isn't it? Sweet!" Finnaly responding to Erik, "Oh and I saw him afterwards too."

"Oh?"

"It's kind of embarrassing…"

Erik leans in close and holds my gaze intensely, speaking in that hushed phantom-y way of his.

"I can always make you tell me."

Seeing he's won, he leans back again, smugly, giving me room to catch my breath.

"All right, all right. So I saw him from upstairs first and ogling over his sexy black trench-coat--"

Erik snorts, once again I ignore him.

"-- I decide he is also very vampire-ish too. When my friends and I got down to the main level, he was standing in sight talking with a group of other kids. Or rather he seemed to be like I am sometimes; with the group, but not really part of it. Anyway, at my friends' incessant prodding I, suave person that I am," so saying with a very sarcastic tone, "succumb to the pressure and go over and say something strategic like "---"

And class starts, cutting off my story, to be continued at another time.

**(insert ghostly laughter here)**


	4. Conclusion of the Saga of Phantasmic

~ Conclusion of the Saga of the Word "Phantasmic" ~

"What the f * * k was that all about?!" Erik cries.

"You saw the teacher come in. I couldn't very well continue talking, now could I? If it were a normal in-school class, maybe, but here..." I let the comment trail off with a shrug.

With a deep angry sigh. "Are you sure I can't go kill him?"

"I'm sure." I confirm with a smile. "I just have to survive the exam and I don't have to worry about any of this anymore."

"If you get the right grade, won't you be taking AP Calc this year?"

"Well, yeah, but it'll be easier than pre-calc."

Erik looks at me funny and rolls his eyes, sighing again.

"Ignoring that peculiar piece of logic; are you going to continue?"

"Continue what?"

"The story!"

I snicker. "I know. I was just trying to annoy you. Okay, so I went up to him and said -- prepare to be blown away by my cleverness -- 'Sorry, but I saw you during intermission and just wanted to tell you I like your jacket.'"

After a beat for the phrase to sink in, "I mean seriously! It barely even made sense! Well, I can kind of half blame my friends. I asked them what I should say, how in the world I was supposed to strike up a random conversation with this guy. What help did I get? 'Just go, just go; talk to him!' Yeah, it's one thing to talk about talking to someone; it's another entirely to actually know what to say!"

"You are rather passionate about this event, aren't you?"

"I just know I came off as dumb and slutty. As I finished my little speech, I touched his hand, slipping a piece of paper with my name and phone number into his pocket. Then I went back to my friends, grinning that I'd actually done it. For Christ's sake..."

"Did he call?"

"Obviously not. Or if he eventually did, he was one of the random numbers that call my phone during school and don't leave a message. So I doubt it. And that's the lovely saga of the word 'phantasmic'. And I'm ready to stop yammering for a while."


	5. Enter Wolf

**As I have already said in my last post of "passion begun" life was very hectic preschool getting all my summer assignments finished up and now my computers on the fritz. (I am in the library typing this) but happy days I now have a backlog of entries for this my strangest and most random series. Enjoy and remember, i've got more coming!**

~ Enter Wolf ~

*This and the next few conversations are written in Big Blue Bear, Rockies at the Globe Convention.*

"God have mercy."

"Stop complaining. This is a dream come true right?"

"It ought to be, it started out to be, but isn't."

"Nice, handsome boy and a "goth" at a science fiction convention to boot; what is wrong?"

I can't help but smile a little at that. "I can't believe _you_ are trying to keep me hooked up."

"Just trying to understand what you're thinking." Erik grumbles.

The smile fades.

"What I'm thinking is that God answered my prayer is also letting me be aware of the flaws in it."

"Flaws?"

"Like, "You don't know what you're asking for" but as show-and-tell."

"Hmm… Elaborate?"

"You weren't there last night. You didn't see." I say in a hollow voice.

Erik starts, alarmed. "See what?" he asks sharply.

Quick to reassure him. "It started good, like I said; Dinner with our parents then back to the con to hang out. Nice conversation, go back to the hotel, up to his room—

"What?!"

"Calm down. This is still the good part."

Erik snarls softly.

"Anyhow, we're there a few minutes, go back to _my_ room. Another nice conversation, flirting. Go back to his room to watch "Constantine" on his parents' laptop."

"Alone?" he breathes venomously.

"Yes, but I felt secure enough. I wouldn't have gone otherwise. As we watch we need to sit close to see." Erik interrupts with a growl. "Shut it you. He begins caressing my knee lightly. Our hands eventually clasp and we cuddle and he strokes my jaw and neck with his other hand. A side note, for you Erik dear: If I'm comfortable with it happening, like I was, those two spots appear to be nicely erotic pleasure points."

Erik snorts, but turns away trying to pretend he isn't considering this newfound knowledge. Knowing perfectly well where his mind went and smiling slightly again, I continue. "This goes on for a bit. I'm enjoying it and the movie --you gotta love Keanu Reeves. Then he starts getting more aggressive."

Becoming dangerously still. "How so?"

"Bolder caresses, trying to get me to kiss him, kissing my head and neck… nibbling my ear…"

"Thought you liked a little bite?" Erik sneers.

"Yeah. On my arm, when it's Malaya or Beauty or Bubby. There are only a few people I like biting me. Anyway we get to kissing but I'm already starting to get uncomfortable with the situation. I'm prepared for him to try a French but he doesn't go for it and anyway I feel exactly what I felt when Blue Jay and Stone kissed me. Nothing. From there it didn't feel nice anymore. I was too worked up and in the wrong way for that. I stopped him before anything extreme got started—"

"Good girl." he murmurs gently.

"--but I let him cuddle still. Even though I was actually watching the movie he continued what he had been doing. Kissing, nibbling—now hard enough to sting though not draw blood. I didn't make or tried not to make any effort to play along but he didn't get the hint. And of course me, I'm hopelessly shy and have too great a penchant for trying to please people, so I don't say anything."

"Then don't please!"

"It's hard. Anyhow I finally look desperately at my phone and say I ought to be going. He was reluctant but I finally got away. He took me to my door and kissed me goodbye. I went in wanting to scream or cry or die…"

Concerned, "Now, now..."

With a hard sigh. "Not literally; I'm not suicidal. But sometimes that's the only way I can word it. I think it's a desire for emotional death really… too escape…"

"I guess that's better…" But he doesn't sound entirely sure.

"Forget it. The point is, he went just that step too far and now I can't find my way back to where it was good."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Yes, told him to wait for me to get up to kissing on the mouth. And it did feel nice to be cuddled in his arms for a minute after that but…"

"But?"

"It's still too much. He says he doesn't want to push me. Maybe I need to cut it down more. I don't know. But he's too forward. Even the things that should don't quite feel right. I feel like suddenly he showed me where he wants to go and wherever I try to stop he's going to press against the boundary. Not enough for me to be able to really explicitly say no but just so it isn't nice. Isn't comfortable."

"Tell him you'd rather not see him so much."

"I know… I should. But the part of me that prayed, that asked God for this is telling me to endure. But I'm also trying to decide exactly why I don't want to see him. Am I just scared of the unknown? Is he really crossing a line? Do I not want things once I gain them? Is it—"

I stop short and shake my head at the unbidden thought.

"Is it what?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." Erik commands with gentle imperiousness. (Is that an oxymoron?)

When I respond my voice is small.

"Beast?"

**Yes, that's all for now. Bwahahahaha! You are all subject to my power! You are helpless in suspense until I post again! Hahahahahahahaha! Sorry. Anubis's Half-breed, please don't yells at me. You know why I think you might… And to the person who asked about my Erik (sorry at the moment I don't feel like looking up your name, im running out of time to use the computer) hes my own, which basically means conglomeration of all erik's ive been exposed too and the erik in my storylike daydreams. In this he is admittedly a tad less Erik-y than he could be, but that's the way he comes out when I talk to him in this manner.**


	6. The Answer

**Me wish me owned Erik but me don't. ... Life sucks like that, huh?**

~ The Answer ~

It hasn't been long since I was last writing, but now I sit alone and out of the way in the convention center. Erik sits across from me, legs crossed, fingers steeple-d.

"I just wanna disappear into a dark little hole until the con is over." I groan.

"That's no way to deal with this."

"I know, but Malaya isn't answering her phone. I need help here; guidance."

"You've got _me_."

"I know. Hey, did you hear the guy with the keyboard doing "Music of the Night?"

With a gentle smile. "Yes, he played it quite well."

Sobering again. "But as much as I love and trust you, you're still a part of my imagination. You can't have any deeper insight into this than I can."

"I could kill him?"

I smile a little. "He isn't that annoying." The smile fades. "I know I asked for this. It's what Ii want, but it... isn't what I want. I barely know this kid. It's too much, too soon and because it is... it can't work." I realize suddenly this is the answer. "There it is isn't it? Too much, too soon. That broke something that can't be fixed now. At least not right away." Relieved, I take a deep breath. "And that's that."

"Will you go tell him now?"

With a grimace. "I'm not brave enough. I'll write a note and text him that it'll be on the voodoo board.

**Yeah it's short, deal with it. Fyi: the voodoo board is the con message board. **


	7. Exit Wolf

**This is another not very interesting brief discourse. Don't flame me; you have been warned of its dullness.**

~ Exit Wolf ~

I sit on a couch with Erik, backstage in a dressing room-- not alone, alas-- waiting our turn on stage for the con's Masquerade, that is, costume contest.

"Better now?" Erik asks.

"Yes, better." I respond. "Not perfect, but better. It's easier just talking to him through text and thinking of him as a Beast type of person, if that makes sense."

"It does to me; I cannot, however, speak for your readers."

"They can deal."

Erik clears his throat and says somewhat stiffly, "I have to say, I rather like your costume."

"Thanks. It isn't bad considering I didn't know about the Masquerade beforehand. I'll be prepared next time."

Raising an eyebrow. "Black boots, purple skirt and pinafore, burgundy and black corset-- all in all a perfect gypsy outfit and just the right makeup isn't being prepared?"

"Hold up."

We were called out to be 'on deck' at that point. I didn't win anything but I got a few catcalls. (Erik glares at offending audience members, fingering lasso. "Will you please calm down? They can look and whistle all they like; I still love you best." He sighs and with an effort, stops glaring murderously.)

Two days later, I sit in the bathtub in my hotel room, Erik is perched on the toilet, leaning against the counter.

"Wow, way to get back to this in a hurry." he says with that dry sarcasm of his.

"Sorry. Deal with it. And the outfit was for the Regency ball originally; even though I didn't actually go."

"No one to dance with?"

"No, I just didn't feel like it. I'm all off, you know? My appetite, my sleep schedule-- I think it's the altitude."

"And of course you would not be still trying to avoid Wolf?"

"Well, maybe a little..."

"Or a lot..." Erik drawls with a knowing smile.

I don't respond; I'm staring vaguely into space.

"You're drifting..." he prods.

"Sorry. I guess I don't feel as much like writing as I thought I did."

Erik sighs and rolls his eyes. "How very boring."

"Boring?"

I grin mischievously and grab Erik, dragging him backwards into the tub...


	8. And Senior Year Begins

**Wow, it's been what, little over a month since I started posting these? And you fellow crazy people seem to like 'em plenty. I'll keep writing. You just keep reviewing!**

~ And Senior Year Begins ~

"I have a feeling this is the first of a massive series of study hall based conversations."

"Of course, that depends on homework."

"Of course; and I'll probably have plenty for religion this semester."

Erik makes a face, snarling slightly. "Bah."

I nudge him. "Hey, it probably won't be as bad as all that. It shounds--"

"Shounds?"

"So I can't write. Screw you. SOUNDS pretty interesting this year. Very philosophical. And Jobicus is in my class." I add with a happy smile.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Jobicus. Jobe. It's his last name. I add the -icus and pronounce the J like a Y because we've been in Latin together for the past three years."

"I see." A barely concealed "Psycho girl." lurks behind his voice.

"Hey! Don't diss my weirdness! I don't bug you about all the bodies that appear in your wake."

"Quiet! Someone might hear; all my plans will be ruined!"

"Relax. You're in my head, yeah? They can't hear us."

Erik blinks, looking rather surprised. "That's right. Of course..."

"Hey," I say poking him. "Only about 15 minutes left!"

"Are you... excited about going to calculus?"

"Well, no, not exactly. But it's Dr. C. and the last class of the day."

"Always a good thing, yes..." He takes a breath to continue, but I cut him off before he can speak.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me!"

"What?"

"You were about to ask What the crap--"

"I would never use so crude an expression as 'What the crap.'"

"Yah huh. --am I going to do in the two hours after school until my mom comes to get me--"

"How did you know I was going to ask that?"

I throw him a look that says 'Seriously?' and go on.

"-- so then I thought of calling her before she leaves work and having her pick up those books I need and then thinking of calling reminded me i need to call my brother about painting some dressers for him." I take a deep breath and flop back satisfied. Stretching my wrist too; damn pen cramp.

"Not for free I hope."

"As if. Got any color ideas?"

"They are currently "blond," yes?" I nod. "And the top is linoleum or some such material so paint won't stick to that..." I nod again. He spends several moments of silence in a thoughtful attitude. "What colors are going to be in his apartment?"

"That's what I asked! All he told me was what wood he was going to have in there."

Erik tries to hide a smile.

"Gutter-brain. You know perfectly well I mean the bed and stuff he's getting from mom and dad."

Erik attempts meekness to regain my favor with an observation. "Well, you can't exactly stain it since it's been painted before..."

"Yeah."

"But maybe paint it brown? Top too, and put a sealant over so it won't chip so easily?"

"Maybe... the sealant or whatever's a good idea anyway." I sigh. "Only a few more minutes..."

"Thank God. My hand's starting to hurt."

"_Your_ hand?"

"Oh, well... yours..." It's true, but I look at him funny. "Just forget it!"

Snickering. "Right..."

**The dressers ended up green with the top left alone, in case you were curious. Wow, I need a break. Now my hand's starting to hurt from typing...**


	9. A Tiny Rant on Jobe

~ A Tiny Rant on Jobe ~

I have just completed- at long last- the next chapter for "Passion", i.e. Raoul's narrative.

"Well that was certainly stumbling." Erik comments, thinking of what I just finished.

"It's not my fault; Raoul's meter is harder to write than yours." Erik gives me an incredulous look. "Okay, so maybe it's technically my fault. But I want it to be different than yours so his thoughts sound uniquely his."

"I know. I get it." He says, smiling.

"Good. I'm just relieved I'm finally finished. Seriously, I think other points of view are going to be few and far between in this."

"Now that you've done one, you sort of have to do at least one more. If for nothing else, for the sake of symmetry."

"Yeah, yeah..." And I stare dejectedly into space.

"The thought depresses you?"

"No it's something else."

"Oh? Tell me?"

"Jobicus is still with Regina... Hang on, the bell's about to ring."

Later, at my computer; why leave you with such a short chapter?

"So, Regina and Jobicus have been together, I think since his freshman year; she's a year older than us. I shouldn't think like this. It's wicked. It's a good thing that they have so far been able to stay together even now she's in college; though it helps she's still in town. I'm sorry; stuff like this is easier when I'm in a mood." I run a hand distractedly through my hair, frowning.

"I think I can guess the rest." Erik breaks in with a somewhat disgruntled voice. "You have a "crush" on this boy and wish he and his girl would break up, therefore giving you a chance with him."

"Pretty much... it sucks..."

Erik rolls his eyes, sighs and takes me in his arms.

"Thanks; you're sweet."

**Okay so its still short. Deal with it.**


	10. The Power Outage

**Do not own anything of consequence in this world. Oh and someone asked me about what it meant when Erik said "What the K" in Convo IV. I didn't realize she meant in Convo IV, I thought I had mistyped "Crap" in a more recent one. I don't tend to look at my stuff after I post it so I never know how the format ends up. Anyway, the "what the K?" was supposed to be "*#k" as in the f-word. Yeah? Good now? **

~ The Power Outage ~

I lie snuggled up on the couch in my living room, the brightest room in the house, and glad for the sake of my rotten cold there's no school. Almost reluctantly I pick up my pen to write; I'm exhausted but I'm tired of reading.

With a sigh I turn to Erik.

"I'm talking to you; happy now?"

"Your sister is I'm sure." he answers thinking of Malaya bugging me about updating.

"I thought about asking you to the park earlier but couldn't get motivated enough. Even now I'm not real into this." I admit.

"You're tired."

"And sick. It really is a blessing the remnants of Ike f-ed up the transformers everywhere around here. I would have been even more miserable if I had to go to school."

"It was quite a wind storm." says Erik with impressed agreement.

"You can say that again. In my almost 18 years living here, nothing of this magnitude has happened. I mean, Xenia _always_ has tornados but we're never hit of affected by them." I pause, listening to the radio. "The whole state's in a state of emergency now. Geeze."

"What is going to happen to your rehearsal tomorrow?"

"It'll probably be canceled unless that area gets back power." I stop again, distracted by another commercial. "This is random, but have I told you I'll probably ask for money for Lasik for my graduation present?"

"No. But it seems like a nice idea I suppose."

"Suppose? You know; one less thing..."

"Indeed, indeed; though you could ask for something more fun."

"Like what?"

"A trip to Europe; France, perhaps. Language lessons, vocal lessons... whatever strikes your fancy."

"I have been thinking of learning a new language. And I'd love to go to Europe but I don't know how much people are going to spend on me."

"Corrective laser eye surgery is pretty expensive I'll wager."

"Yes, but I'll be asking for money from my whole family, not just my parents. I don't know if they'd do the same thing for a trip to Europe or something."

Erik looks at me funny. "I'm sure they would..."

"Yeah. But still..." I lean back sighing, my eyes closed. I open them after a moment, gazing across the room at the piano. "I wonder if I can learn to play the piano this late in life."

"You can play a little."

"A little, but only if I have the note names on the keys and/or under the music and an hour to make the tune intelligible."

Shrugging; "Isn't that enough for what you do?"

"Yes, I suppose, but it's the principle of the thing. Being able to say you play something and truthfully do it well. I just don't know if I'll be able to stick with it. I wasn't able to with the clarinet in grade-school or the violin last year."

"Good point." He thinks for a minute. "What if _I_ tutor you?"

I smile. "That would be a dream come true and I know you would keep me interested and disciplined. However, I know I'd have to go to some stranger."

"Perhaps you could take lessons at college."

"Perhaps."

"Why is that radio on? They aren't saying anything you would care about just now."

"Soon they should be talking to the power company about what timing looks like in terms of getting power back."

"Ah."

"I should finish my homework."

"Considering it was due today, I'd say so."

"I won't though, most likely. I'll most like to end up doing it tomorrow morning in the cafeteria."

"_If_ you have school tomorrow."

Grimacing; "Yeah. If that's the case I'll have to finish last nights and the Tuesday assignment. Since she gave us all the assignments at the beginning of the year, I doubt she'll give us a break."

"It _is_ a college level course." Erik agrees.

I glance through what I've written so far.

"Look at that; four and a half notebook pages. That ain't bad for me being so lethargic, yeah?"

Erik winces. "Don't try to adopt British vocalisms."

"I like watching 'Across the Universe,' okay?" I say with a grin. "Deal with it." I flop back again. "God, I feel lousy."

"Why don't you take a nap?"

"I don't want to risk a bad night's sleep in case there's school tomorrow. I can go to bed early if need be. I've done my duty to Malaya by talking to you. I think I'll go back to my book now. Play something for me?"

Erik goes over to piano, moves mom's cantoring books off the seat, and sits elegantly down as only Erik can. "What would you like?"

"I don't know; start with "Tell Me on a Sunday" then... whatever you like."

As he starts to play, he comments timidly. "You know, this will probably be another night of candlelight and silence."

I lift my head to throw him a glance. "All the more reason for me to take it easy 'till then, eh?"

Erik blushes slightly, but can't suppress a grin. (Have you noticed how incredibly expressive his face can be despite the mask?) I settle back to The Razor's Edge.

Less than a paragraph later, Erik turns to me.

"Excuse me."

"What now?"

"You just said I began to play, but your piano is electric. And there is no power in this house."

"Oh. Right. Oops. Never mind then."

Erik sighs and rolls his eyes.


	11. In a Mood

**I have a few chapters stored up, it's just a matter of getting around to typing and posting...**

~ In a Mood ~

Again, study hall.

"Well, how about that? Two poems in almost as many minutes and they even have some pretty sounding nonsense in them to boot."

"They aren't bad." Erik agrees, glancing over them.

"Wonder when class ends; the schedule's been so off today." I comment vaguely.

"Why should I know?" Erik asks.

"I dunno," I shrug. "Maybe you've been paying more attention than me."

Erik scoffs.

The bell rings and classes change. That answered my question, huh?

"Why are you sulking, dear?" Erik asks with an annoyed sigh.

"Because I feel lonely. Because I don't belong." Well, I did say I was in a mood.

"Belong? You belong just fine; you know that."

"Yes. But it's only to a point. Beyond that point... I am alone."

"Dearest..." he sighs again.

"Please don't deny it. If I truly belonged I would be able to sit next to a group without feeling as if I were nothing more than a third wheel. So to speak."

Erik opens his mouth to speak but I interrupt.

"If you say I'm not a third wheel..."

"What would you have me say?"

"I don't know," I exclaim, exasperated. "Is it me? Do I form a cocoon that lets only a few in at a time? Do I turn away friendliness because I don't really know someone? God, it doesn't make sense. At Rosewood I was fine; there were enough people I was close to and it was so consistent. Beaver Theatre was okay because I had Tim and Rose to cleave to while associating with others. But in Drama Club... Tim and Beast are there, but... it isn't the same. There are so many other people they are good friends with. I feel awkward and... misplaced."

"Then make more friends.

"IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE! NOT FOR ME! I'd like it to be I wish it was but it's not. They are just that little bit different in a way I can't quite explain but it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. I just can't get comfortable can't get truly close. It's the same at the band table and in some (not all) of my classes. Unless the right person is there that I know I can be near, not even saying anything if I don't want to talk, and its fine. I need that anchor. If its not there or drifts with the tide, I can't function happily."

Home now, I greet dad as he comes into the kitchen and my train of thought shifts.

"I thought for a second we'd all be in a dour mood tonight, but maybe not. I can't tell just now." I say worriedly.

"Why would you suspect such a thing at all out of the blue?"

"Dad came in with a melancholy sneer and it seems like whenever I'm in a dull and petulant mood it radiates to mom and dad too."

"Can't other people have bad moods? Especially at a time like this, in a blackout?"

"Yes. And they do. But it also occurs as if in a direct relation to me. So often its simultaneous I can't help but think I contributed somehow. I'm not one of those people who thinks everything bad is their fault; it's just the days when my annoyance spreads to aggravate others' moods. Know what I mean?"

"I think I see, yes."

"Good. I definitely feel better. I'm glad I have you to talk to. It's hard for me to talk to people around me, even my best friends."

"Then what am I precisely?" he huffs.

"Something more than everything. I have to think that part of it, too, is that I'm safe at home with just my parents to have to pretend to."

"Pretend?"

"Never mind for now. It's kind of complicated. I gotta go to dinner."


	12. Another Mood and the Deal With Beast

**At last a genuinely fresh update! As you might have noticed from my profile, I'm done reformatting and am back in the usual swing of posting chapters. Enjoy!**

**Own nothing of consequence in this world.**

~ Another Mood and the Deal with Beast ~

I sit in the first read through for my latest show, 'Dracula.' Being a character with a lover, my mind wanders into that area of thought. Accordingly, I turn to Erik.

"If this were real, would you make a move for me?"

Erik looks over at me avoiding his eyes and considers it for a few moments before answering, "You know I can't answer that. As individual as I am, ultimately I think what you desire me to think."

"Don't say that," I plead with a wince.

"Even though it's true?"

"Lie to me."

"I still won't answer that question."

"Well then, do you find me attractive?"

He almost sighs and leans back in his chair. "If I may quote your own words, you are 'rather pretty and pretty damn hot.'"

"But do _you_ find me attractive?"

"Questionable territory again." He means it to be teasing but sees I'm not for it. He sits silently appraising me before continuing. "You are no Christine Daae but you can sing well; indeed, that amusingly odd music major over at U.F. described your voice as having 'Broadway tone.' You are kind, compassionate, loyal and capable of loving with every fiber of your being. You are highly intelligent and wondrously creative in both art and writing. Always thinking, always imagining, always feeling. Any man should be happy to claim that passion for his own."

"In theory; in practice, they don't."

"Some have tried."

I give him a look, and then list them on my fingers, evaluating each one.

"Bhaer by his own admission can't hold onto feelings for a girl for more than a couple months and he lives an hour away _and_ we are both so very much the same in that we are painfully shy around new people, we've never even had an actual conversation."

"You've skipped your first beau."

"Oh, right. C.J. He was sweet and all; I do love boys with those old fashioned, chivalrous sort of manners, but he just wasn't the sort of person I could date. Or rather, be comfortable dating. I can't date someone I'd be ashamed to be seen acting lovey dovey with."

"Which was a similar problem," Erik chuckles, "with that Blondie lad I tried to kill during our first conversation."

I roll my eyes at him. "We've already gone over _him _quite enough I think. But anyway, we should backtrack to a little before Blondie and I'll tell you the deal with Beast."

"Please do." He sits straighter, vividly attentive.

"It started in my last show at Rosewood Children's Theatre. It was in that show that we started becoming best friends and that only a few weeks before I began feeling for him. That show was rotten with cast illness and when I got sick during tech week Beast blamed himself because he'd hugged me while he was sick and worried over me in the sweetest way. The crush slowly escalated and the next spring I started to get the impression he liked me too. One day at theatre he took me aside and said, 'You are one of my best friends and I have a really bad habit of liking my best friends. But me and Allie (they had broken up a year prior) are just starting to be friends again and I don't want that to happen to us. I want us to be, like, ninety and be able to call you up and say 'Dude! There's this great audition for old people; lets go!' I don't want to hurt our friendship.' What could I do but agree and accept it? Even so, my crush continued- sometimes quiet and easy to deal with, sometimes so intense it was almost painful. Finally, about another year after our conversation, I told him through text that I liked him. Not an honorable way to do it I know, but... well, we talked over the phone, basically repeating what had been said a year ago plus the idea that I am to him what his best friend Sheep is. And trust me that means a _lot_. And _I _told him that if Eponine was all I could be to his Marius I would live with that but I can't help but wish... and so we're best friends."

I stop with a sigh and rub my face with a hand, resting my forehead against it, looking sideways at Erik. He gazes knowingly at me.

"But you still wish."

"Comparing me to Sheep sated me for a time but I still feel for him." I pause, smiling sadly. "Once, backstage just before he was going on, I told him to break a leg and even though I wasn't even in the show he put his hands on my shoulders and said 'You break a leg, too, Mooy.' and kissed the back of my head. He then laughed it off, fussing over whether he got any of his face paint on my hair, but still... And during another show when we, the cast, went to the traditional dinner afterwards-- see, we'd always get the kids menus and crayons for fun and write messages on napkins and pass them between tables-- he sent me one saying our relationship was like Lucie and Sydney Carton's. You know, as in Dickens' Tale of Two Cities. I can't help but enjoy thinking what that could mean."

"Ah, doomed, unrequited love." Erik sneers.

"Don't sneer; you could use that phrase to describe yourself." A low blow, I know. But it was that kind of day.

Erik glares at me, insulted and responds a little more peevishly than perhaps is necessary.

"There are a few more, I believe, who have 'made a move' for you?"

"Yes, there are two, both two years younger than me; Taco, whom we have discussed and this weird kid named Josh. One of those idiotic 'gansta' wannabies, you know? He's been persistent for a while." I add with an annoyance that makes Erik perk up hopefully. "Yes, you can kill him if you like." Erik fairly coos.

"I? Coo?!"

"Erik, shut up. Now, Musemachine; he was a total deuche."

Erik looks confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry, that one might not bee in your repertoire of slang. Let me see... idiotic, dumb, crude, boorish, gay-- but not as in happy nor as in homosexual. Shit, that makes the word more slang, doesn't it?-- Anyhow, we never even really 'knew' each other and even though we were 'going out' for a month I don't feel like it counted as anything because he never took me on a date and to all intents and purposes didn't even try to do anything for me on Valentine's day. The first time I actually had someone who I thought would want to, and nada."

"Asshole," comments Erik delicately.

"Another good word to help define 'deuche'!"

"You're welcome." he smiles.

"Then last, we have Wolf, whom we have also already spoken of. More than any of the others really, since I was doing convos while the events were taking place."

"But your conclusions?"

He is not at all someone I could date. Almost a deuche but the sad part is the sincerity in his belief in his emotions at the time he is feeling them. For instance, he told me that he felt like he was falling in love with me and asked if I believed it. I did; I believed that he _felt_ like that."

"But not that it was real."

"If it were and 'meant to be' then someday I'll return the feeling and everything will be hunky dory, but I doubt it. He's an idiot. I know it sounds cruel to say, but its true." I say as I shrug apologetically.

Erik chuckles. "Give the lad a chance..."

He texts me every now and then in the middle of the night. The last time I answered, 'You're persistent, I'll give you that.' He answered, 'What?' 'Persistent.' I say and he hasn't texted back since. I mean, seriously!"

"That last was an exclamation, not a confirmation of the event?"

"Yeah."

"Hm... interesting."

"I think that's all of them then."

"A healthy number of admirers for someone who is so unloved." he says suggestively, gazing innocently at the ceiling.

"Unloved, yes. Not unnoticed." I clarify dryly.

Another actor suddenly sits down nearby. I shift slightly away, making sure my conversation is concealed.

"Who is that?" asks Erik with an annoyed sneer.

"That is 'Arthur,' Holmwood, that is."

"As in..."

"This is practice for 'Dracula'. I'm Lucy. He's my one and only fiancée."

"Is that correct? Should you not have two other hopefuls trailing at your skirts?"

"It's a weird script," I chuckle. "I only have one beau."

"And that capacity is on stage. Why is he sitting here, now?"

"I don't know Perhaps in an attempt to develop camaraderie. We have to kiss. Passionately. Twice."

Erik shakes his head, disgusted. "Not only is he somewhat unpleasant, he is also several years younger than you."

"I know," I say with a sigh. "I'm an actress. I'll deal with it. Whatever the show requires, right?"

"Would that more actors were so... aware of their responsibilities." he says with a satisfied and even proud smile.

I snort. "Tell me about it."


	13. Cursive and Pet Obsessions

~ Cursive and Pet Obsessions ~

Another dull day in study hall; only about ten minutes left but nothing to fill them with, except of course a brief conversation with my dear mystic muse, so...

_"I'll write. I haven't written in a while." _I say, in cursive, as much to catch Erik's curiosity as the mood my fingers are in.

"Why the cursive?" he obliges me by asking.

_"I don't know; I'm starting to rather like it. It has symmetry for me I don't quite have in print, despite the wonder some people express at its neatness."_

"I suppose. It does depend on how fast and how carefully you write though.. Even thinking about it, you have a tendency to add or subtract loops and sweeps in your letters in cursive."

_"And sometimes mix up or omit letters all together, in either style." _I add.

"Indeed."

_"Anyhow, you're one to talk about writing neatly."_ I say with a sarcasm to rival his own.

Erik's eyes flash coldly. "Oh?"

I gaze thoughtfully at the ceiling. _"How is it described in the book? Child-like? Sloppy?"_ I suggest wryly.

He leans forward toward me looking gently menacing. "I will have you note, I can write perfectly elegantly when I have a mind to."

_"I believe you,"_ I assure him, then add, _"Have you ever wondered if you aren't autistic to some degree or something? I mean, you're a genius in general, but mostly an artistic, right brained one and you don't like writing, which is a left brained activity. Aren't autistic people sometimes creative savants?"_

Erik settles back again, more at ease in position if not in manner. "Yes, I suppose it is likely; something of that sort." He pauses, studying me. "Does it matter in terms of your opinion of me?"

_"No. Nothing could change what I think of you,"_ I smile.

"Good."

_"My opinion matters to you?"_

"How could it not?" he asks, slightly annoyed. "I might be anyone, anything you fancy. Suppose you decided I would be better to talk to as Vlad or Holmes?"

_"Of my three pet obsessions, you are my favorite. No one, fictional or otherwise, could replace what you are to me."_

"But why not either of them? Why choose me when you began this?"

_"The Great Detective, for starters, is all look but don't touch. He isn't the lover type like you or Vlad." _Erik raises his eyebrows. _"I love to read him, but I couldn't possibly talk to him the way I talk to you; his intelligence is just too far beyond me to recreate like I do with you."_

"And my intelligence?" he demands lightly.

_"Well really you are beyond me too, of course. But in a... manageable way. You're different is all. And Vlad... well, he's just not... I don't know why not. There's no real reason why not. I just don't want to. It almost feels like I'd be... insulting him. Sort of."_

"Right..." he drawls incredulously.

_"I don't know! Just forget it!"_


	14. My First True Beau

**I may post these in bunches but they get written with weeks in between, that's why I almost always end up starting with an apology about not having written and seemingly sudden leaps in interests or whatever.**

~ My First True Beau ~

Yet again I sit in the cafeteria on my own and muse over my present state of life and mind. Erik sits down in a chair at my right.

"We haven't talked in a while." he chides gently.

"No, we haven't," I smile. "I'm sorry."

Erik waves his hand carelessly. "Bah. It is not as if you have been filling your time with anything unimportant."

"Nothing I think is unimportant at least."

"Meaning?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"You haven't told me what you think of Polecat."

"Would that matter? My opinion of him, that is?"

"Always. And I really don't know what you'd think of him."

"Considering the fact that you are already "going out" with the boy, I do not see why--"

"Please?" I interrupt.

Erik smiles quietly and looks at me steadily. "Very well then." He settles into gazing at the ceiling as he thinks and speaks. "He is not _dis_pleasing; he is rather bizarre, but then so are you," he begins dryly, glancing briefly at me when I kick him. "He is an artist; that very fact keeps him out of the danger of the possibility of my killing him. He had the class to take you on several dates before "asking you out," he makes you laugh, bought you roses when he came to your show, behaves affectionately but not overly forward with you, you have commented on how very "easy" it is to be with him, you appear to trust him; indeed, he seems quite concerned with doing right to you, by you."

"It's adorable how much he worries about that." I agree with an amused smile.

"He does behave quite sweetly for you," he allows, matching my smile with a benevolent one of his own. "Notes in you locker, poetry and sketches of roses..."

"And mazes, Lol." I add, speaking the text-speak as a word.

"And mazes. He also "texts" you song lyrics every night after you go to sleep. He even recalled your partiality for Andrew Lloyd Webber's version of me and sent you "Music of the Night" once."

"And some weird version of the theme another time. I mean, it was cool but wasn't ALW's lyrics. Can't blame Polecat, though; apparently it came up in the first link he found online."

"Could not have known the difference, yes?"

"Exactly."

"And you have been inspired to poetry by him; that certainly says a lot in his favor."

"It does." I say; blushing slightly, then smile as I answer a text.

"Him?" Erik prods.

"Yeah. I snuck a note into his coat and a poem into his locker today; he was answering the poem." I hesitate, and then continue haltingly. "He-- I think he loves me."

Erik cocks his head. "You said that oddly."

"My tone you mean?" Erik nods. I explain. "The other night he couldn't think of a song to send so he wrote an amusing little rant about not having a song to send." I pause, answering another text. "Sorry. Then he said how he'd been arguing with himself all evening while we were together but now (meaning three a.m.) that the logical part of his brain had shut off he could say it: I love you."

At this point mom arrives forcing us to leave, postponing the conversation. But no need to despair, mom stops at a convenience store/pharmacy to pick up some things, leaving me and Erik in the car.

"All in text?" Erik inquires, as if there had been no interruption.

"Yeah. The coward's way out, but I'm like that too, so I understand, even if I don't condone him."

"Hm. And do you love him?"

"I... love him. I just don't know if I Love him or how much. I _do_ know that more and more I _feel_ the heart I tack on a text or want to smile when he's near, to feel him touch me. I still feel vague stirrings for Beast now and then and little tugs toward Jobicus, but I want to be with Polecat."

"That is the important thing I suppose..."

After a moment or two of silence, I ask, "You're not going to pout, are you?"

"If you are happy, why should I? I am imaginary after all." he responds somewhat petulantly. "What you do with males in the real world bears little on me. But," he adds, growing serious and menacing, "The moment you feel pain because of him..."

"I know, I know," I laugh. "You might have to wait in line for retribution if that happens, though; I've got plenty of friends who would hurt him for me."

Erik laughs shortly. "Nice friends." he says sarcastically.

I poke him. "You should talk; you're one of them."

"Well, of course I am; what else could you possibly desire me to be?"

"Nothing you aren't already." I assure him with a smile and let out a contented sigh. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I forgot how nice it feels to talk about random stuff with you. It's therapeutic."

Erik chuckles. "It's my pleasure, my dear."


	15. More Boredom during Study Hall

~ More Boredom during Study Hall ~

Twenty minutes of study hall left and nothing left to do...

"So?" I offer.

Erik looks at me. "So what?"

"I don't know, but I'm bored."

"That usually is the reason you start talking to Me." he says rolling his eyes.

"Mostly, yeah," I agree and sigh. "It helps when there's something to talk about though."

"Yes..."

"God, I'm tired." I groan.

"Perhaps you might tell me why?" Erik suggests.

"Nothing better around for conversation," I concede. "All right, so Magister, my Humanities teacher, assigned us to draw our own representation of Christ in accordance to the chapter we're on."

Erik interrupts with a slight sound of distaste. Knowing his views about God, I just glare at him and continue.

"Anyway, I can't start during play practice because I don't have paper and crap, then I go out to dinner with Polecat and we go back to my house to watch "Shawshank Redemption" so I don't start it until ten o'clock or so when he left. I work for an hour and fifteen minutes and I start to bitch to myself because Magister wants it all colored and I don't feel like taking the time to color it because I want to sleep but I know I won't have time to do that in the morning."

At this point the bell rings; it's only been eight minutes because the day had a messed up schedule and I lost track of changes, and I rush off to Calculus. It's long after school that I have the chance to start writing again--Bubby came to visit and stayed some time but at last I can continue.

"Jumping in on my interrupted train of thought--- so I decided to just pen and ink it, sort-of Andy Worhol-ish and Magister could suck it."

"Ah, artistic temperament." Erik comments with a smile.

"It was only after all this and when I'd begun the hands that some random wandering train of thought reminds me: this wasn't due today. A performance by the city Philharmonic Orchestra Percussion Trio meant we didn't have Humanities class."

Erik chuckles.

"I know, right," I say with a wry smile. "But at least now I have it drawn and outlined in pen, all ready to watercolor when I get home."

"Charming." He agrees.

"I thought so." I idly glance around the cafeteria, noting the time as my gaze goes by the clock, tapping my pen against my hand. "And now I'm still bored."

"Then write more." Erik suggests.

"I don't know what about."

"There's plenty floating around your head about your conversation with your "brother." Really, I do not understand why he antagonizes you so."

"It's all loving." Erik rolls his eyes. "Really. It's obvious you've never had a sibling."

"Technically he is not your sibling." Erik points out.

"No, not technically," I admit. "But neither is Malaya my literal sister; same thing."

"He says if you hadn't been his "little sister" for so long he'd ask you out."

"Yeah, but he doesn't make anything weird between us."

"Maybe not from your point of view..."

"Hey, if it were anyone else, they'd get their ass kicked, but since its Bubby, I don't care."

"How can you not?" he asks incredulously.

"I trust him, I guess. I don't have any reason for it to make me uncomfortable." I pause looking at the clock. "We should get ready to go now. I can finish my picture."

"Very well; I do enjoy watching you art."


	16. Jobicus and Polecat's Epilogue

~ Jobicus and Polecat's Epilogue ~

After much too long, a day after school finds me and Erik sitting casually together at a cafeteria table, I idly avoiding homework, he drinking some amber liquid very elegantly (though where he got the cut glass tumbler, let alone the drink inside, I'll never know).

"Jobicus and Regina broke up." I say suddenly.

Erik's glass pauses on its way to his lips as he glances briefly at me.

"So it would seem." He acknowledges warily.

"Or rather she broke up with him according to people at the lunch table. Requiem says he did stuff to her too though, Regina I mean."

"And?"

"Well, she never elaborates so I don't know what kind of stuff, so I still see him in a good light. And…"

"You still have feelings for him." It was a declaration of fact, not at all a question.

"Yeah," I admit then realize with a start, "Shit. I never explained to you why I broke up with Polecat, have I?"

"No, you have not. And it has been several months now, yes?" he responded patiently.

"At least two; before Valentine's day and Turnabout, for sure. Before PATS retreat too." I hesitate with a sigh.

"Well?" Erik hedges.

"Well, there isn't really much to say. Even when he first asked me out I didn't have a full crush on him; it was just a 'what if- could he ever be-' kind of feeling. We did some really fun, romantic things and I did enjoy them and being around him but it was more novelty and flattery that kept me there than anything else…"

"And to stay would have been a lie to yourself and a worse lie to him."

"Exactly. He took it well," I continue assuredly. "There's no bad blood between us. I can't really talk to or be around him easily yet, but that's okay, I knew it would be awkward for a while."

"And this, of course, left you available to ask Jobicus to Turnabout."

"Yeah; even though he said no because he was going with Regina, despite the fact that she's at U. of F. now- very sneaky on their part- he did seem genuinely sorry he couldn't go with me."

"You are sure he was not merely being polite?" Erik asks gently.

I sigh. "Maybe, but if so he's a very good actor and it made me feel good to think he would have come with me if he could."

"He is free now it seems."

"I feel bad though."

He looks at me incredulously. "Whatever for?"

I lean back in my chair and gaze at the wall. "For idle, sudden thoughts I couldn't catch before they formed; wishes that they would break up. I feel like such a selfish, hypocritical bitch. And don't say 'You are not-'" I say sharply, fixing Erik with a piercing glance. "Being an adjunct of my mind, I can't believe you when you tell me things like that." I conclude bitterly.

"As you wish," he concedes, eyebrows raised at my tone and pauses before continuing. "Not many days ago you had such a hopeful thought. When you were telling Jobicus why Beast had broken up with his girlfriend after a retreat, feeling that to better know himself and God he did not want that sort of relationship to distract him for the time being."

"He got this odd look on his face and said, 'He's right.' I felt sorry for him, not knowing exactly why. Then he went into a train of thought about how having someone around like that could help with spiritual issues like that; statements completely at odds with those first two words. In a way what he said about help made sense but I can't help feeling like he was trying to convince himself. Of everything in that conversation, the 'He's right.' Was the most genuine I think."

"Initial instincts and reactions do tend to be the right and true ones." Erik agrees.

"I want to ask him to prom, but I don't know when or how. Well, how I've got; I did it for Turnabout after all, but the when eludes me. I don't want to seem desperate or overbearing but at the same time I'm afraid if I wait he'll ask someone from the band to go."

"Bring it up in conversation and find out his intentions." Erik suggests.

"I did think of that, but again, when? We only every so often end up talking alone together."

"Make the when yourself, then."

"Again, I don't want to seem overbearing." I sigh. "Damn crushes being so complicated."

Erik rolls his eyes. "Tell me about it." He agrees.

I can't help but smirk. "Of course; you know all about messed up relationships, don't you? Ah well, it'll work itself out. These things always do for me. My blessing."

Erik smiles at my optimism and raises his glass generously. "And you have mine."


	17. Dry Spells and Lenten Resolutions

**It's been a while; that much is obvious from the subject of today's convo, Lent, which is now long since over. But worry not dear readers (those of you who are still out there reading this) I do have a healthy backlog of work and will hopefully get it typed and posted, if not soon then by the end of summer.**

~ Dry Spells and Lenten Resolutions ~

Frustrated, I shove the two papers in front of me into a folder and slip it in my bookbag. I pout, annoyed at my lack of progress in my homework, until Erik, watching amusedly from across the table, leans forward smiling expectantly.

"I have a good schedule for the homework things I need to finish," I begin, giving in and talking to him. "And I've been sticking to it but I just can't think of anything to write for either of the assignments I have for today."

"And so _we_ speak." He responds, satisfied.

"Yep; I've finally started writing again and it feels good. I wish I knew why I've been so dry these past few weeks though."

"It seems to me it began while you were courting Polecat; stark, passionless poetry, little desire to talk to me…"

"Maybe," I admit. "But why dry up completely? Sure there was no real excitement or great depth of feeling connected with him, but I was confused and frustrated; usually those are the feelings I go to you for help working out."

Erik lazily shrugs his shoulders and leans back again in his chair. "Who can say? The soul of an artist is a very fickle thing."

I cock my head at him. "You're very… stoic and philosophical today."

"Am I?" he asks in that same lazy tone.

"You are." I assure him. "Almost Holmes-ish, if that makes sense."

"It does." He allows.

We both pause, our eyes roaming about the quiet room and over the other students about.

"Today's lunch is going to be frustrating. " I comment suddenly.

The dark eyes that slide back to me carry a more usual amused expression though his voice still waxes philosophical.

"Only as much as you allow it to frustrate you…" Curiosity overcomes him. "Why?"

"Because it's Lent." I explain.

Erik wavers between a sneer and rolling his eyes as he always does when religion, especially Catholicism, comes up. At last curiosity wins out over contempt and he sighs.

"Again, why? It is not Friday." He points out.

I give him an 'Oh, come now' look. "You know I gave up meat for Lent altogether."

"I never did understand why you do that." He responds, shaking his head.

"Well, I want to give up _something_, but anything I can think of wouldn't be very difficult to give up. Being a Lenten Vegetarian is actually a challenge."

"I see," Erik says drily. "So why is today's lunch especially frustrating?"

"It's chili day," I groan enviously. "The chili here is delicious."

Erik chuckles wickedly. "You know," he muses, "I might actually partake in a meal this noontide."

I kick him but smile, amused. "You jerk, you're going to sit there and metaphorically rub it in my face, aren't you?"

Erik smiles with devilish innocence and responds with smooth confidence.

"Absolutely, my dear."


	18. Observations and Ego Stroking

**Back at last to posting my backlog of convos… at least its stil summer so I can pretend I haven't procrastinated too much… ish.**

**I own nothing phantom related but the issue of my own mind.**

~ Observations and Ego Stroking at Rehearsal ~

My senior spring musical here at Patriot High is the fabulous Hello Dolly! I sit out on the gym floor attempting in vain to find a comfortable position in which to sit and write as I watch and wait for my scenes. You see, we do not merely practice in our gym; our gym is our auditorium the stage &c. being built into the southern wall. Today however it is not so much the Catholic school poverty of our drama program that I dwell on but the frustration and consternation, brought on by not serious enough practice I am sure, of our leading lady.

"It's hard to watch her struggle like that," I comment aloud as Dolly, on the brink of tears, refuses to relax about blanking on her verse.

How can Erik resist but to contribute his own professional opinion? "She does not seem to have practiced well," he agrees with cynical disapproval.

"She is trying," I point out, attempting to maintain a fair state of mind. "It's a big role."

"As I recall she has been struggling like this from the first day off book," he replies with a sideways glance.

"Yeah…" I grant still trying to keep up that fair state of mind. "I can't help but wonder if I could do it better… that sounds horrible." I squirm a little guiltily.

"On the contrary, at least two people have told you that you would have made a fantastic Dolly."

"It _would_ have been fun… But Minnie (Fay, my role) is a great character part." I reason.

Erik chuckles. "You will steal the show, I am sure."

I sigh as my eyes wander back to the beloved stage. "I just wish I could have at least been Irene if only to play off… and stage kiss… Beast."

Erik ignores this weakness of my teenage spirit and listens instead to the aforementioned as he begins "Put on Your Sunday Clothes." "He is in good voice tonight," he observes idly.

At this point I have to go on and real life intervenes with one thing and another and I do not return to complete the conversation until the next morning in homeroom.

""He was, wasn't he?" I break in on the last thought spoken.

"Our relationship is quite advantageous the way we can stop a conversation and continue it again as if it had not been interrupted." Erik says drily.

"Yeah. Lucky us," I say, not really that enthralled.

Coming back more to the subject of the previous nights discourse Erik offers, "You scene went relatively well save for your scream and the "Motherhood March."

"I know," I cry dejectedly. "I trained myself in a good blood curdling scream for Dracula and now I can't seem to do a more subdued shriek. I've been trying to adjust it but I don't really have time to think about it when I'm onstage about to do it."

He nods understandingly and smiles. "It _is_ quite a blood curdling scream."

"I am proud of it, I must admit."


	19. Possible Progress with Jobicus

**Its kindof hard to write these so long after the fact. I know what happened next and have more thoughts about how it relates to the future in the story... i want to write what i know about what happened in hindsight but i want to remain true to the feelings of the moment... muy frustrating...**

~ Possible Progress with Jobicus ~

I sit on a bench outside of Patriot High patiently waiting for dad to come pick me up after a very pleasant field trip day. Erik appears and settles opposite me, leaning on a low decorative wall.

"Well," he observes somewhat sneeringly, "it seems you are making definite headway with Jobicus."

I tip my head to the side with a slight smile. "Yeah, it looks that way."

Erik eyes narrow. "What exactly took place in that bus seat from which you emerged grinning like the proverbial cheshire cat?"

"Well," I begin with an emphatic head bob. "You saw how he kept trying to sit next to me on the bus but Requiem was too quick for him."

"Yes..." Erik prods.

"And how he walked near us both at the Frank Lloyd Wright house _and_ the art museum _and_ kept teasing me."

"Indeed." Practically growling now.

I smile and continue. "While we were walking at the museum he murmured, 'I'm sitting next to you on the bus back; I don't care what Requiem says.'"

"And indeed, you did so."

"First he put his arm around my waist to pull me closer, then a few minutes later put his arm around me again and left it there, sort of caressing my arm with his thumb just a little."

Erik adopts a dark, brooding look, crossing his arms beneath his cloak and altogether as quietly stormy as the windy, grey sky behind him. "Hmmm...." he says.

Here dad pulls up and we go off to dinner and then to theatre. Now i am sitting backstage on my prefered perch by a wall, out of the way and in view of the stage through the travelers. House is open and all is dark. As I begin writing, Little Ermengarde gushes over the Phantomized cover of my notebook. As she finnaly wanders off...

Erik, from his own perch on the ladder next to me, says,"Just imagine if she could see me," open disgust and horror in his voice at the thought of what the little fan might do.

"She seems like a sweetie," I smile.

Another young'n, Annoying Girl, comes over for apat on the head. Erik narrows his eyes at her.

"That one decidedly is not."

"No, not really," I agree. "Anyway, where was I?"

"He was carressing you," says Erik in a bitterly cold voice.

"Only I little..." I try.

Erik scowls and growls as Annoying Girl returns, staring avidly at the page until I put my knee up and refuse to write until she gives up and turns away.

"She is gawking like a lost puppy," he says contemptfully.

"I know," I tell him in between a conversation with Annoying Girl and Miss Minchin about previous plays at the theatre.

"Ah, she left," Erik sighs.

"She'll be back," I regretfully assure him.

"Perhaps I could...?" Erik hopefully fingers his lasso.

"No," I say with a sigh. "I'm sorry, but you really oughtn't." I cough.

Erik looks sharply at me. "You have not yet kicked that cold?"

"Not quite. And don't look at me like that, I've been trying to be careful with my voice and all."

Erik humphs incredulously.

With sudden realization, I cry, "Look, now we're all off topic!"

"So we are," he responds with a sigh. "What did you and Jobicus talk about then?"

"Prom." I smile. "When I told him I hadn't gone and all he said he was sorry as if he had been obligated to take me and even asked if he could make it up to me."

"That seems fairly suggestive."

"I know, right? I admit I was a little... too eager in the further conversation, but I'll keep myself more in check from now on; be mysterious and all that."

Erik chuckles absently. "A little mystery and strangeness is always good for teasing a potential lover."

I smirk. "You would know."

He looks at me and raises an eyebrow superciliously. "I can't imaine what you might be implying.

"Right..."


	20. Ah, the Joys of Doing a Show Sick

~ Ah, the Joys of Doing a Show Sick ~

Another day has passed and my cold has worsened by an appreciable degree. Once again we are sitting backstage, costumed and made up and somewhat bored until my scenes.

"I'm sorry I didn't get back to you last night, darling. I thought about it but I was totally wiped." I say to Erik.

"I understand," he assures me and falls back to eyeing the girls filling the bench with me and the one on my stool. "You will kick them out, I hope. It is awkward talking to the back of your head."

"You could sit on the floor rather than perched behind me on the ladder." I suggest.

"Sit on the floor?" Erik cries contemptuously. "Backstage in a children's theatre? In _my_ fine clothes?"

I chuckle at him. "But, yeah, I won't kick her off the stool. I'll just take possession of it once she and the other schoolgirls go onstage."

"You are sure your voice is up to this?" Erik asks with concern, in relation to the boisterous character I am playing, altering the train of thought.

"It has to be; it's not like there are understudies here. I'll be fine," I say confidently, "Just a little froggy is all and that might sound neat with my Cockney and for my character."

Erik crosses his arms and frowns at me. "If it were my choice you would be home in bed."

"Me too, but that's not really an option."

"By the by, dear, how was the-ah- situation with Jobicus today?"

"Basically business as usual. For which I think I'm grateful. If he is trying to start something I'm glad he's easing into it rather than the alternative. I did get a very nice hug after school." I add warmly.

"Bully for you," mutters Erik.

"Isn't that a British expression?" I tease.

Erik glares and huffs, watching as I talk to Miss Minchin. As she leaves my posture deflates and my eyes droop. He looks at me as if he can see my headache.

"Darling," he says gently, "Perhaps you should find yourself a place to lie down once these—" he glares at the girls "—wretches are gone."

"I would, but I'd be afraid I'd fall asleep. I may rest my head on your knee once I have the stool though."

"They are leaving," Erik observes.

"Give it a minute; I don't want to seem too eager like I was lying in wait for the seat. Oh, why did you have to suggest lying down? How easy it would be simply to lean over sideways on the bench..."

I shift from my slouched position and stretch and feel slightly dizzy as a result.

"Are you sure you are well?" Erik asks again.

"Yeah, I was just sitting very stiffly; the blood kind of rushed to my head."

"Mm hm." He says doubtfully.

I lean back under the ladder against a cloth covered desk. I look up at Erik peeking at me through the top rungs.

"Not very comfortable," I say.

"It does not look so," he agrees.

"I want so much to lie down." But I'm just whining now.

Erik reaches down to stroke my hair. "My poor dear." We watch the scene onstage end. "You missed your chance for the stool."

"I know. I don't really care."

We sit in silence for a time, listening to the show and chasing wandering thoughts. After a bit I shift to sit Indian style on the bench.

"How nice it would be to curl up on your lap and o to sleep," I sigh.

Erik nods absently, looking thoughtful and sympathetic.

"Those urchins are quite well behaved tonight."

"Thank God," I say, "I couldn't be very patient today, I think, if they weren't. At least tomorrow is Saturday and I can sleep in."

"After which you must complete that ten page paper for English." He reminds me.

"Yeah," I sigh, "I hope I can do it justice."

"'The Power of Music';" Erik quotes. "Surely there is plenty to say about that."

"Perhaps... oops! I better get in place!"

I silently hasten over to the curtain and walk on for my scene just about in the nick of time. I come back and Erik nods generously.

"Not so bad."

"Didn't feel up to scratch either. Wow, I only just realized I'm writing with a red pen. I picked out the wrong one in the dark."

"And you have written how many pages so far?"

"Shut up," I snap. "It's dark back here and I don't have cat's eyes like you."

Erik frowns. "I apologize."

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to sound bitchy. I was like this this morning too... I am getting tired I guess." Another long pause in the conversation ensues until I remember something. "Oh, as I was saying, or about to say, the power of music might be easy to feel and metaphorically express or talk about but I don't know how much I can really essay about it."

"I believe I see." Erik says.

More silence and lost in thoughts. For myself I mentally evaluate my mood and do finally come up with a description that pleases me.

"I'm in one of those 'I want to (metaphorically) die' moods." I announce to Erik.

"Ah, darling..." he sighs back.

"Sing me something?" I ask, confidant in the privacy of my mind to contain the noise.

Erik laughs gently. "Of course..." and softly begins to sing "Music of the Night" as I lean wearily against the ladder.


	21. My Illusions Crash Down Around My Ears

**The final installment of my backlog of convos! Yay! I don't know how long it will be before I have more to post but when I do it shall be collegiate stuffs!**

~ And My Illusions Crash Down Around My Ears ~

Patriot High cafeteria, morning. Several days after the so called promising events previously documented.

"They're back together."

"Who? – Ah. And?" Erik asks gently.

"When he told me yesterday I felt next to nothing other than the struggle to find the right thing you say when someone says 'You deserve to know, et cetera.'"

"A conundrum indeed. And now that it has had seventeen hours to stew?"

"I don't know." I make a vague helpless gesture. "Yesterday I was good, I was okay; today I'm just not sure. I felt fine; I just needed to cohere my thoughts in order to respond. Which I did and I know what I want, or at least wanted, to say to him."

"You went to "Star Trek" last night as well; you did not get to talk to him there?"

"I was going to but _she_ was there. How do you sneak someone off to the side for something like this when she's there? I couldn't even do it when we were sitting around pre-movie. His brother-in-law and sister were sitting right behind us; muy awkward for that."

Erik nods sagely. "A pretty little problem."

"If I can just say—"

He comes in to the cafeteria but soon leaves. In hindsight I maybe should have followed him but I didn't and the bell quickly rings, eliminating the chance to hunt him down.


	22. A Letter from Erik

**Months ago Anubis's baby girl wrote me this letter from "Erik" and I've finally gotten around to reacting to it. I must apologize for the references at the start to a certain "Raoul;" I have not found occasion to write much about him even though he's been a great part of my life recently. I had started to (which is how Erik knows him) but couldn't find the drive to continue. And without the drive to write, I for one cannot write. So forgive me and just go with it.**

~ A Letter from Erik ~

Erik sits at my desk watching me as I labor earnestly over the slowly forming design I am painting on my school bag. Bored, he leans forward and attempts to coerce me into conversing.

"If you don't mind holding off further conversation about Raoul—" he begins.

"I've actually settled on "Doctor" for his alias." I interrupt matter-of-factly.

"A doctor?"

"No." I correct him. "_The_ Doctor. As in Who? Timelord? Tardis? Dalek?"

"All right, all right; I understand."

I am not sure he really does (Erik generally scoffs at television in general, though even he admits it has some merits) but I prompt him to return to his train of thought anyway.

"Good. You were saying?"

"Yes. I find myself inspired to discuss this letter your sister wrote in my name some time ago, intended as fodder for just such a conversation as this." As he speaks, he pulls said letter from the air with a flourish and holds it up for me to see.

"I've been meaning to get to that." I muse slightly guiltily.

He turns it over in his hands and opens it languidly. "I cannot fault the paper," he begins his observational monologue, "Thick and acceptably parchment-like, black border and the red sealing wax is a charming touch..." He frowns. "Although I do not approve of the gaudy heart stamp she used."

"Not 'you'?" I ask with a sideways grin.

Erik inclines his head in acknowledgment towards me. "Quite." Looking back at the letter, "And was it really necessary to write 'From PTO' on the front?" His voice sounds almost pained. "Truly there is a reason I use 'OG'." Shaking his head he opens the folded paper and glances over the writing.

"I rather think her penmanship with a quill is quite good," I say, having seen the letter before. "By which I mean suitable for you, as imitations go."

"I will grant her that," he agrees generously. "It is close to what I consider my everyday writing; not as stylized as what I give the Managers nor as elegant as when I really try, but for the most part, quite well imitated."

"And the content?" I prod.

He reads. "'_Hello, my dear,'_ Adequate, I suppose. '_I thought you might enjoy a letter from me, considering you always write me.'_ Not the most elegant opening... _'Currently, I am breaking in a new calligraphy pen, so that is why my handwriting is slightly unsteady but once I get going it will need turpentine and a new tip.' _Her clarity of thought astounds me." Erik drawls, sarcasm virtually dripping from his voice.

"I get the tip part; she means nib I think, but what's the turp for? To thin the ink?" I wonder vaguely.

"As if I would beg forgiveness for the quality of my writing." He sneers additionally, ignoring my question and continues. "_'So, how are you? I'm worn out and about to crash.'_ Really, when would I ever use such slang as that? _'I can't wait until the weekend and now my own handwriting is irritating me.'_ Again, her seamless trains of logically following thought amaze me. _'Also I have been speaking to your sister and we agree that if Wolf so much as looks at you we will kill him. Please, we are worried for you.' _This I do applaud, though seeing as he was not at the 'con' this year, it did not matter. But her grammar! 'We are worried for you'? Do I really talk like that? _'Also she is she is rather irritated about her current 'boy toy,'as you would have said.'_ Why should I care? I do not make a practice of concerning myself with the love interests of eighteen year olds."

"Really now..." Erik shoots me a glare and I cower appropriately, hiding a smile.

"'_She is... bitching about it... save me...'_ I would never stoop to begging you to save me from her—"

"Of course not," I say with a smirk.

"I would just kill her." He finishes, satisfied.

"You don't dare." I say cheerfully, knowing.

"I wouldn't be so sure." He responds sweetly and resumes with the letter. "_'Hopefully I can get this to be more even.'_ She is much too concerned about the state of 'my' writing. _'So how has your time away from me been? I never want your 'sister' near me again with her reading that book about me. _(Authors note: Kay's Phantom)_ She hugged me and babied me and... I won't mention the rest; all I can tell you is that she is insane!'_ Well, the first step is to admit you have a problem, isn't it. Though I am relieved that you, darling, would never actually put me into a fan's hands whilst they are reading Kay's novel; that would be a nightmare. _'I think she has found me, I must go!'_ It seems I was writing this in hiding. If that were truly the case she would not have discovered me so easily. And again!" Erik exclaims as his eyes move down again to the end of the letter, "The beginning of PTO! Thankfully scratched out but replaced with a wretched version of my signature. I daresay she was trying too hard too hard to make it look nice. She would have done better to do it carelessly." Satisfied with his tirade, Erik calmly folds the letter and tosses it aside on the desk, then looks at me as I stretch. "Tired, love?"

"A bit," I admit. "But very amused at your tirade. I can't wait to hear her reaction."

Erik chuckles wickedly. "Neither can I..."


	23. The Doctor is Not Raoul

**Here we are then, given into my proper instincts and writing it all down. Maybe this will help the stress I've been feeling lately when I let myself think of everything I have on my mind. I'm babbling now; sorry. Anyway…**

**Do not own Phantom. Do not own the "Rulebook for Arguments."**

~ The Doctor is Not Raoul ~

I sit in Establishers, my center of campus dorm here at the University of Flight, in the downstairs lounge, the washers and dryers humming gently behind my music. With relative constancy I labor over the rough draft of my final English paper that should have been turned in two days ago but luckily I was able to delay; performances are brilliant excuses for procrastination. Erik is sitting beside me on the other end of the faded blue couch, flipping idly through the "Rulebook for Arguments" I'm using as a reference for my essay. Someone down in the chapel begins to play the piano, something sweet and modern I can't quite identify. Erik glances up and smiles appreciatively.

"This is nice; I always forget how nice it is to sit with you like this." I muse. "It's so strange to feel guilty about neglecting a figment of my own imagination."

"You have been busy," Erik offers soothingly, putting down the book. "Adjusting to college life, your shows, and…" he pauses discontentedly before grudgingly acknowledging, "Him, your Doctor. And you haven't been neglecting our little chats entirely; your posts attest to that."

"I know. But even so… if _he_ wasn't a factor I wouldn't feel quite so guilty I think. There's so much I could have been telling you and yet… I haven't… needed to." I frown, still feeling like this isn't a good way to express it.

"I understand," he replies with a dark gloom, facing forward now, staring at the ground, his arms folded under his cloak. "Now you have found your Raoul, you have no need of me."

"Oh, darling, I'll always have need of you. And as I'm sure I've told you before, he may not be you but he isn't really Raoul to me either." I think a moment. "No, not Raoul; what he is to me doesn't quite fit like that."

"What is he to you then?"

I start catching myself thinking the same words as he speaks them. "My, you have a talent for asking bothersome questions, don't you?" I say quickly, trying to disperse my unease.

"Are you so uncomfortable with it, with the answer?" Erik asks quietly, but not without a note of hope.

"I don't know. I really don't know, really."

I hesitate, trying to find words, any words, and glance at the clock. "Another hour and I have to go to a floor meeting."

"Bah. What does that matter?" he demands, waving his hand dismissively. "We have an hour for now and all night after. Now then…"

I sigh and go back to my essay, trying to think without thinking too hard (a frustrating paradox).

"Look," I say abruptly. "Can we just--"

"No." Erik says firmly. "I think you need to do this with me. I am a safe place to think

about such things, am I not?"

I look away.

"Yeah… I don't want to think anything. I just want to feel. For once in my life I don't want to try to rationalize or justify or whatever it is I tend to do with my feelings. I want--" I stop, wary of the eyes reading these words.

"You want…?" Erik prods gently.

"I'm not working on my essay." I say quietly.

"For the amount of effort you have chosen to put in it for now as a rough draft, it can wait. Now, though, you will bare your soul to me."

I smile ironically. "Nice. Loosely quoting my poetry. Fun stuff."

He half bows from his seated position and prods again. "You want…"

"Well, I'd like, at least,… to fall in love with him. I mean, I like him of course, and I already love him; you know, the way I love Beast and Timbus and Malaya and Beauty… I don't dare say it 'cause I don't know if he'd understand. I really should just explain and have done with it, not worry about it but I want it to mean more. I think it could mean more in time and if and when it does… I want it to be clear."

I pause breathlessly and avoid Erik's cool, dark eyes. I smile as my mind drifts. "I love how he kisses me so fiercely sometimes… he's as beautiful as you are in certain ways…"

Erik's eyes glitter and narrow slightly but he does not speak. He simply sits, watching me. For once I can't really tell what he's thinking.

"'You are to my thoughts as food to life or sweet seasoned showers are to the ground…'" I murmur foolishly as I let my mind wander where it will. "I really should actually read more of the sonnets. I'm not going to just keep encountering them in connection with shows. I mean, I could, but it isn't likely. Trouble is, I don't really know if that's how I feel; it's just the only phrase I seem to be able to come up with. Poetically."

"You are a poet; why do you not make your own?" he asks in a low voice.

"Would you believe it? My poetics have gone all willy nilly out the window. Maybe it's because he's so poetic himself, I don't know, but even the poems I have written out fully aren't that… poetic sounding? I guess? Am I just rambling now?"

Erik smiles at me, his eyes softening. "A little perhaps; there is nothing wrong with that."

"I am. I'm sure of it. In a few moments I'll be wondering if any of this is making any sense at all."

Erik reaches over comfortably and pulls a piece of Foccacia from the quarter baguette sitting on top of the books between us. "Well then," he suggests, sampling the bread with elegance only he could achieve. "Change your thought process; direct your train of thought elsewhere and focus on that. For instance…" He stops, thinking as he eats the bread.

"You're getting me farther and farther from finishing my essay." I remind him.

"Come now, your essay will be fine. Ah. You do not define him as being similar to what Raoul is to Christine. How do you define him then?"

"I don't exactly." I say as I wrap up the bread and carefully stack it and my books in a neat pile. "I've called us a thing… and when I bring him up I usually say he's 'my boy from State U.'"

"So after a fashion you feel you do possess him." Erik concludes.

I frown at him. "In a way, I suppose. But I don't… by definition. We aren't… officially anything. We're not strictly obligated to each other or anything. It wouldn't be quite fair, being so far away and all." I give a short laugh. "God, I have more written in terms of number of pages for this conversation than for my essay. And I think I'm going to head back upstairs in a moment."

"Very well, but we are not finished here." Erik warns me.

"No," I sigh. "I know. After the meeting, okay?"

He inclines his head in acquiescence and I gratefully shut off the music and prepare to go.


	24. A Whole Lot of Nothing

**Yeah well we all have days like this: disjointed, unexciting, short. Deal with it. Much love darlings!**

**I do not own Erik. He refuses to be any man's servant let alone a woman's slave. So much the pity.**

~ A Whole Lot of Nothing as I Half Attempt to Study ~

"All right then, I'm back."

Erik isn't listening; his attention is on my floor-mate who is playing the piano near the table where I sit.

"While I do not object to music in general, must she practice while we are here?" Erik grumbles.

I smile. "Sorry, the chapel is a well kept secret in terms of study places but it's also the one place in Establishers that has a piano. She is good though, right?"

Erik shrugs dismissively. "Passable."

"High praise." I say sarcastically.

I start to move as if to switch tabs on my computer screen.

"Is this going to be another night where you constantly flip between our conversation and your homework?" he asks, exasperated.

"It's not my fault I'm in college." He raises his eyebrows at me. "Okay, so it is, but it's not my fault it's almost finals week!"

"Very well," he sighs. "Flip away."

"Oh, thank you so very much, sahib." I mock bow to him and receive a stern glare for my pains.

My floor-mate leaves and Erik and I are alone with another student who is sitting at the opposite end of the chapel. But only momentarily; another guy enters and sits near the first. Erik, of course, glares at them.

"Well, perhaps not as well kept a secret as you believe."

"Oh come on; I don't usually come down here so I don't really know and like I said, it's almost finals week. Give them a break. It's not like we're having a deeply intimate conversation just now."

"Speaking of intimacy…" Erik shifts cross-legged on the table and looks down at me.

"Boy, don't even go there."

He smiles with obviously feigned innocence. "My dear, where do you think I am going?"

"Hold up for a minute; I really ought to try to get some of this essay done."

"God in Heaven, why is this so difficult?" I cry exasperated as I temporarily give up on said essay.

"Because it bores you?" Erik suggests helpfully.

"Thanks." I say shaking my head at him. "It's a lot of nitpicky stuff that I just don't feel like doing. Maybe I'm trying to be too organized about this and putting myself in a rut."

"Come now, you told yourself you were going to just do this paragraph about MLA format and that would be it for tonight; surely you can manage that much."

"Fine. Here goes."

"Good girl."

I throw in the towel again.

"I'm sorry; I just can't get ambitious tonight. Better I go to bed, get a good night's sleep and hammer it out tomorrow with determination."

Erik shrugs, a little disapprovingly but acquiescing. "And we shall continue our conversation then as well."

"I don't know if I'll be able to deal with that but you're going to whether I like it or not. Good night, Erik."

"Good night."


	25. He Said He Loves Me

~ He Said He Loves Me ~

"He said he loves me."

"Last night?" Erik frowns and looks to me from the end of the bed.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And… I'm just as confused about where we stand as ever."

"Saying he loves you seems to be fairly definitive." He suggests delicately.

"You'd think so and… I suppose in a way it is, but it isn't… you know?"

"Did he seem insincere?"

"No. No, not insincere, really. We we're--- hang on. Do you want the whole story, like starting from the beginning beginning? Like, of the night?"

"That would be rather appreciated, seeing as you have not brought me along with you any place recently."

"Well, he came to my show, along with Jobicus, Beast, Malaya… I'm sorry; I need to sleep for a while before we do this."

"Just as long as we do continue this. I've been very lenient thus far with this boy's involvement with you."

"I know you've been very patient, thank you. I promise we'll finish this later."


	26. So Here's the Story

~ So Here's the Story ~

I sit at my computer determined to speak and get it all out no matter what.

"Well, I'm here. My nap made me only slightly less weary and I still feel ridiculously out of sorts."

"This will help," Erik says soothingly, gently rubbing his hands against my shoulders as I type.

"I hope you're right." I sigh. "Okay so where should I start?"

"The beginning of the evening I should think." He sits elegantly in Katt's chair and crossed his legs, folds his hands on his knee and watches me appraisingly.

"All right, so I had a bunch of my friends come to the show last night, the Doctor included, of course. Show was good and afterwards we went downstairs to the Galley for ice cream. It was decent enough I suppose; I wasn't really that hungry and they were also having a movie night so we couldn't sit where I had been planning to, but that wasn't a problem." I pause.

Erik raises an eyebrow. "They brought presents I assume?"

"Oh yeah; well, Snapping Turtle, the one I've been watching Sailor Moon with lately, she gave me my present earlier this week and poor Sebastian forgot or something but that's okay, and Doctor I was to find out had more of an event planned as a present."

"Get anything nice?"

I smile, knowing he's easing me into whatever's bugging me with these mundane questions and answer easily. "A cute top, skirt and necklace, the 1929 restored edition of the Lon Chaney Phantom—"Erik makes a discreet contemptuous sound. "A book of Sherlock Holmes quotes and the original Strand illustrations and a slightly creepy keychain mouse that goes on for like, five minutes about how much he likes me when you squeeze it." I grin. "That was from Beast. Oh, and Snapping Turtle's advance gift was a Nerf gun."

"Yes, I noticed it." Erik motions briefly to the gun lying on my footlocker.

"After presents everyone started drifting off, which is fine because I had nothing else planned for the party and the girl hosting the cast party was buying me some Mike's in honor of my birthday so I wanted to make sure I went to the party. Sarahk and Sebastian ending up leaving together to sleepover at Sarahk's house and the Doctor and Malaya joined Snapping Turtle and me in going to the party. Along the way to which party the Doctor sort of half mentioned an empty house and nice empty house plans for us."

I stop again, my thoughts running ahead of my fingers as they so often do and take a break, grabbing a piece of leftover pizza from this morning.

Erik waits sort of patiently, fingers beginning to tap restlessly.

"All right, all right, I'm back," I say. "So we went to the cast party; a quieter one than some, and we all drink a little except for the Doctor since he'd be driving later. It was nice. Snapping Turtle and Malaya were hitting it off incredibly and the Doctor was mingling nicely with my theatre friends. After I finished my Mike's I asked the girls if they'd mind if the Doctor and I stole off for a few hours and joined up with them again later. They didn't and we all left the party, us off to the Doctor's house, the girls… wherever they went."

Erik moves from Katt's chair to her bed and peers at me through the slats of the bunk.

"What did he have prepared? Wine, candlelight, romantic music…?" he murmurs in a way that makes me shiver and smile.

"Any music he came up with probably couldn't hold a candle to you," I reassure him. "Dim lighting, yes. The candles wouldn't stay lit but their grandfather clock had a good mood light sort of light to it, so it worked. We had cheese and crackers and 'wine;' it was grape juice really but the idea was still there. And we cuddled up on the couch and started watching 'Up in the Air.'"

I stop yet again and sit quiet for a few minutes. I look back at Erik.

"Thanks for being so patient with me. They have no idea how long this is taking me just to type out, let alone what it would be to say." I think for a moment. "Which incidentally, will sort of come up later?"

Many minutes and another piece of pizza pass by.

"I do feel better already and I think I've done enough for now. But don't worry, now that I've started I'm not about to stop."


	27. Because I Promised I'd Finish

~ Because I Promised I'd Finish ~

Alone in my room in Establishers, "Titanic" beginning on T.V. in the background, I sit listlessly and finally give up on my disinteresting physics homework. I acquiesce instead to Erik's impatient stare and continue where I left off the other day, describing my birthday night.

"Merci. Now, you began the movie but you did not finish it?" Erik asks.

"Well, not just then. We watched for a while… sort of. We kind of… got distracted?"

Erik frowns. I glance at him warily.

"Are you _sure_ you want to hear this?"

"No." he says shortly. "Continue."

"God, I would have loved to be an upper or even middle class woman in the Victorian era."

"You would have been charming I'm sure. Now perhaps you would like to stop ogling at the movie and continue?"

"Okay, okay. So we spent some time on the couch not really watching the movie then decided to pause it for a bit and head downstairs where we could be more comfortable."

"Indeed," Erik says dryly. "Which no doubt implies a loss of clothing?"

"Well, only a little; his sweater and button-down, my sweater, skirt. We… had some fun, then after a bit circumstances rendered the necessity for a… intermission?" I offer carefully. Erik makes a displeased sort of sound but doesn't answer. "We were just lying there for a while and he said it. Just softly, easily; 'I love you… I've been meaning to tell you that.'"

"And what did you say?"

"Nothing at first," I let out a short laugh. "I'm just glad I didn't say something awkward and ridiculous like 'Thank you' or 'Okay' or whatever. Not that I didn't feel any less awkward not saying anything. I kissed him and for a few minutes we simply continued lying there. See, it's complicated; I've wanted so many times to tell him I love him but haven't because, for one thing, I didn't know if it was… allowed. No, that's not what I mean. I didn't want to say anything that would endanger what we had. Around Christmas he'd said his feelings for me hadn't really changed since the months previously and, well, I didn't want him to feel obligated or uncomfortable. Our relationship wasn't and still isn't really defined as something in which we are obligated to each other. Then, too, it had been a while since I'd seen him in person and just the week before when we spent the afternoon together I had been thinking and troubling over whether or not I was really going to tell him how I felt just then; I wanted to be sure I was still feeling the same? And, I didn't want him to think I felt obligated to say I loved him just because he said he loved me."


	28. Bored at Work

~ Bored at Work ~

"I don't even need to really be here! She's not going to give us any tasks today… I should have at least brought my science book; I could have done some last minute studying for my exam."

Erik rolls his chair over to my desk effectively blocking the path to the door.

"You could always continue our discussion about certain words a certain Doctor said to you on a certain day."

I eye him sarcastically. "Look, I will finish that, just not right now."

He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak.

"Really, I will," I say. "I have an update of sorts about where we stand and I want to put it down word for word; it's not like I have it with me." I pause, frowning. "That sounded like I'm making some sort of official report. I think my freakiness is official."

"That, darling, has been obvious for years. And in a way you are making a report. To me. I want to know what is going on I that head of yours."

He stops momentarily, glaring as my boss chatters.

"I was speaking," he snaps imperiously.

"Oh come off it; you know very well she can't hear you."

"Yes, but –" She interrupts us again and Erik snarls. "It is the principle of the thing!" he finishes, on the verge of jumping out of his chair and attack.

"Will you just simmer down!"

Erik humphs and sulks back into the chair, fixing his eyes moodily on the carpet.

"Will you feel better if I tell you things with the Doctor are at least comfortable now and I'm not freaking out anymore?"

Erik huffs and continues sulking.

I think for a minute. "You can't kill him because he is one of my friends, but Jojo continues to have moments of uncomfortable familiarity with me."

Erik looks up at this sulkily. "Now what do you mean by that." He asks moodily.

"Well, he's really flirty by nature and you know, that's alright, I am too, so are a lot of theatre people. And he likes to make comments about when we're dating or when we get married and that's cool too, I mean it's theatre, jokes like that happen. But the other week when I went with him and a few other people to Christopheraptor's apartment, he got… very close. Like, as if he was going to kiss me close, in the course of his usual flirty joking around."

Erik is all ears now and his eyes glitter dangerously. "Did he now?"

"It wouldn't have been quite so weird after the fact; I'd just not mention it and go on as usual; but he texted me later apologizing and saying it won't happen again. That makes me feel like there may be something actually there, or something. So now it's been just a leeetle bit weird around him. At least I feel a little bit weird, I don't know if he does, and I can tell I'm being less touchy feely with him than per usual."

Erik smiles, clearly happy with the lack of touchy feely behavior between me and Jojo. I look up at the clock.

"Eleven thirty; I think Mary Jo and J.T. are going to go to lunch soon. We'll have a half hour to ourselves before I head out to lunch with dad."

"What _shall_ we do to amuse ourselves without your dear maestro's chatter?" he asks blithely.

"Oh, hush, it's not like she's been talking constantly or anything. You are far too easily annoyed, you know that?"

Erik nods cheerfully.

"You actually like it when people annoy you, huh?"

"Well, of course, dear; it gives me such excellent excuses to keep my skills sharp." He responds sweetly.

"By which of course we mean killing, or torture, or some combination of the two."

Erik looks away innocently. He cranes his neck and watches as Mary Jo and J.T. leave.

"Ah, sweet silence." He muses.

"Because of course it was _so _loud to begin with," I say dryly and win a glare from Erik. I smile and shrug, and spin a little in my own rolly chair. "Doo do do do doo… so, now what?"

"Well, I don't know," Erik says acridly. "Since you refuse to talk about that boy of yours…"

"I will, okay? Just not right at this minute. Geeze…"

"You posted that last chapter weeks ago," he points out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know; I've been busy." Erik looks at me incredulously. "What? Like you haven't noticed it's exam week and me in the library all the time trying to finish my theatre history paper _and_ study _and_ rehearse for things? If I've avoided finishing in the periods where I have had a break it's because I was too stressed to think about such things."

"And now?"

"And now I'll have lots of free time and (I think) a room to myself in Mary's Seal. That's where they're having us stay while we're doing the children's show," I add as Erik looks slightly confused. "I haven't really been keeping you in the loop I guess; sorry."

Erik sighs. "I suppose you are forgiven. Just so long as you and I have a nice long chat later. A proper one."

"Yes, yes, we will." I look at the clock again and shift in my chair. "I'm going to go ahead and go. But we will talk later."


	29. Rash Disaster

**Wrote this months ago and seriously forgot I even had it **_**and**_** a chapter 30 on my computer. But now that means I can post this one now and have three in queue! Stay tuned…**

~ Rash Disaster ~

I sit in something of a huff down onto my bed. Erik at the other end raises his eyebrows and swings his legs around so he faces me, cross legged and expectant.

"Come now, darling, you know you want to talk about it."

"Fuck you. God, why can't I just love you and leave it at that?"

"Being fixated on only one person does make life a lot simpler." He says thoughtfully.

"God knows I shouldn't be talking to _you_ about loving only one person. You're still obsessed with a girl who's been dead like a century."

"Answer your Skype, dear."

I switch my computer window a second too late. He's already responded to something I'd put up days ago and only now saw and logged off again, apparently without noticing I was actually on. Erik watches silently as I text that fact, if he cares at this point. Apparently he may care, since he gets back online.

"You are rather perturbed over this Doctor," Erik observes quietly.

"Yeah," I sigh between Skypes. "I almost don't know what to do anymore. I love him. I really think I might be legitimately falling in love with him."

Erik's brows twitch together.

"A dangerous sentiment."

"You're telling me…"

Erik taps his fingers together. "And how does our good Doctor feel about this?"

"I don't know. I haven't exactly brought it up yet."

"I see." He studies me for a moment. "What did he say when you discussed it last? You never did tell me."

"Basically that he cares about me, a lot, significantly, though with all things considered a monogamous relationship isn't really in the cards right now." I sigh again and rub my hand over my mouth. "I did hope he'd like my hair cut short this way. I'd have done it regardless; I've been planning to since before I even met him, before he said he found some girls with short hair attractive." I wave my hands at Erik as if he's started to interrupt, even though he hasn't. "I won't deny that fact did make me a little more eager to get it done, but when you get down to it I didn't cut my hair for him!"

"You seem very determined not to do things 'for him'."

"Come on; no one wants to become 'that girl,' you know? I certainly don't want to be…"

"Quite understandable," Erik says with a sneer. "Those kinds of girls are often the worst sort of fangirls, I'm afraid. In my opinion you are neither one of those girls nor becoming one of those girls."

"Thanks for the sentiment, but I don't think it counts for much coming from you."

Erik scoffs and plucks absently at some imaginary lint on his sleeve.

"And what else was there?"

"Tonight?"

Erik nods sagely.

"One of the things I wanted most out of tonight was to kiss him, or at least tell him I loved him. I didn't do either. I kept letting moments slip by, enjoying being with him too much and being too shy to speak up. Now I've spoken up, even if it is only over Skype. And he says falling in love with him is not a good thing to do, is not in my interest because he's not in love with me. I know that. At least I think I know that, knew that I've known that. He's never suggested otherwise. Goddamn it, I wonder if this being more open thing is really good for me? I shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have brought it up so blatantly. I should've just asked for a kiss and taken it in stride." I huff out a small laugh. "Get some rest, he suggests. Like rest is going to take back anything I've said, repair any of the damage I've just done."

Erik silently pulls out a handkerchief and reaches over to sweep it across my damp cheeks.

"There, there, you know he'll try to be gentle with you."

"Yeah, he's a pretty good guy that way." I read the Skyped response to basically the last sentence I had spoken to Erik. "I might be surprised."

I try, twice but I can't do it, I can't bring myself to ask 'how?' We'll continue this sometime I say.

"Something like that, he says. What does that mean? 'Something like that.'God, what have I done?"

Erik takes control of the keyboard and logs me out.

"Enough. You need to rest. You haven't been on a very good sleep schedule these last few nights anyway and today is turning out to be no different. You can at least do yourself a favor and go to bed, sleep in. Perhaps you will in fact walk down to the shopping center to visit Timbus at work. Mayhap the stars will align so that you even see Beauty; she does live out that way."

As he speaks he sets aside my computer and nudges me off the bed toward the door so I can take out my contacts. I pause in the doorway to look back at him.

"Why can't all men be like you?"

"Intermittently homicidal, broodily genius, hopelessly devoted?"

"Imaginary. What I need when I need it and vanishing the rest of the time."

"You don't really want that and you know it. Go, and come to bed."


	30. An Attempt to Rectify

~ An Attempt to Rectify ~

"I can't say I didn't mean what I said because I know I did. How true it is, I don't really know. Am I falling in love with you? I don't know. I've never been in love; who am I to say whether I am or not anyway?

But I do know I love you, very much. I know I like you, a lot. And I know that as a friend you're becoming very important in my life.

I know how you feel about me so there was nothing to be gained by telling you what I did. I'm sorry I said anything; I really shouldn't have. It wasn't necessary and I don't feel any better for getting it off my chest; now I'm just terrified I've irreparably damaged what we do have going here.

The fool thing is I'm fine with our relationship the way it is. I do feel I may be falling in love with you, but that's alright. Most of the day it doesn't really matter because I have you and having you is enough. It's just when I get really tired like I was the other night that I start thinking differently. In trying to be more open with my feelings, my filters gotten out of whack, and gets even worse when I'm tired. That isn't a good excuse but I'm afraid it's the only one I have.

I need to know if we're going to be okay, even if we aren't right now. I don't want to lose you and not simply because I want you. I enjoy being with you, talking to you, kissing you, so much. You're fast becoming one of my best friends, with the best benefits.

I hope you understand what I've been trying to say and that it's still possible for us to be good together, like we have been.

Yours, etc."

I look up from the letter and wait.

"Well?" I ask finally.

Erik taps a finger against the side of his mask.

"I think you have been as clear and sincere as possible. You have sent it; now all you can do is wait."

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "Thanks."

"You had texted him a couple times in as many days and he never responded." He commented lightly.

"Don't remind me," I grumble, glaring at him. "I'm doing a surprisingly good job at not freaking out so far, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't push me."

Erik bows his head slightly in apology and glances idly around the new office.

"Not much of an office really," he says. "Don't they use it as the studio for Flight T.V. and educational IT videos and such?"

"Yeah, and I think they still will." I throw him a sideways glance. "Do you, ah, even know what IT is?"

He turns sharply from his examination of a camera by the wall and frowns at me.

"I am under no obligation to remain here with you," he warned, a breath away from pouting at the insult.

"Relax, relax, I'm just teasing you," I laugh and pat the seat of the rolling chair he abandoned a few minutes before.

He shakes his head, though with a kind look and turns instead to peer over Ghandi's shoulder.

"What exactly does this one do?" he demands, frowning at the university site scrolling across the screen. "Half the time I look at what he is doing he is on that… book of faces thing."

I purse my lips together, resisting the urge to laugh. "I don't know really, something to do with the university's website, maintaining it or something. Maybe changing how it looks?"

"Hm." He sweeps away, disinterested and breezes past the counter with its assorted microwave and computer and television, spins the rolling podium, rustles the paper backdrop hanging from the ceiling.

"You know," I offer as he pokes at the shelves behind me. "I would have thought you'd be all about learning about the latest technology. I mean, you're from the nineteenth century, sure, but you're a genius so it shouldn't be too hard for you to master." Looking over his shoulder, Erik smiles at me. "And just imagine what you could do nowadays. Back then your torture chamber was state-of-the-art-beyond-its-time-incredible; with today's tech and your creativity you could, like…" I stop suddenly not sure if I should say it.

"I could what?" he asks pleasantly.

"Ah… take over the world?" I smile sheepishly.

He laughs, but as the laughter fades he stands still and his eyes become much too thoughtful.

"No, no, no, you are not allowed to take over the world!" I say quickly.

"Darling, that is the farthest thought from my mind." He responds sweetly.

I scoff. "Yeah, right, of course it is."

The black cloak rolls over his shoulders as he shrugs and throws himself into the chair I had offered, stretching out his long legs comfortably. He watches me over thoughtfully peaked fingers, his dark eyes glittering.

"Is there anyone else in the picture here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Anyone else you have your eye on, dear, besides the good Doctor." He clarifies.

I think a moment. "Nothing serious as the Doctor, but I suppose there is Rob."

He arches an eyebrow. "Rob?"

"He's an engineer, my grade, was in Establishers last year like me. He vaguely resembles Robert Pattinson." Erik looks angles his gaze curiously. "The vampire in Twilight? I'm sure I at least pointed him out to you."

He doesn't look entirely certain but nods. "Yes… I think I know who you mean. Now about the boy himself?"

"Well, I don't know a lot about him. I don't think we've ever even had a full conversation but he runs with the same sort of crowd as me, got more active in terms of seeing theatre things as the year went on. I don't know, I find him handsome and he seems like a nice kid, and I do have a lot of respect for engineers as a species so to speak, so yeah, it'll probably just be a light crush but we'll see in the year to come." I shift my gaze to the clock. "I should probably go sit in on my boss's class; I want to clean up quick so we can get to the IT picnic."

"And you want to snag some of the goodies served in the class to tide you over." Erik adds dryly.

I blush. "Well, yeah…"


	31. Looking Back with a Cooler Head

**Okay, so really this will be a lot of repetition from Chapters 29 and 30 since I didn't remember I had written them, but you won't hold that against me will you? These next two chapters should make more sense anyway since I wrote them with a calm, cool head.**

**On another note, I just skimmed through all the previous chapters in this series and realized how completely RANDOM and CONFUSING they must be to you people who don't have the connecting tissue of the rest of my life between these incidents and what not. I can't say I'll give you more context, because I don't tend to write the mundane days of my life, informative though they may be. But I would like to thank you greatly for finding my discombobulated rants amusing enough to continue reading them! There aren't many of you I know of, but I do appreciate it!**

**I own nothing.**

~ Looking Back with a Cooler Head ~

I crawl into my bed in my yet half empty room on the second floor of S.M. Hall. Pulling the covers after me, I scooch up to Erik and nestle into his lap. Startled, he lifts his arms away briefly before letting them settle gently around me.

Smiling slightly he says, "My, my, it must be serious; we've hardly shared a word, much less a bed, in months."

I can't help but smile at his unfortunately suggestive choice of words but I sigh as the brief light fades from my expression.

"I replaced you for him. I only just realized it tonight; that that was the reason I haven't really spoken to you in so long. I haven't needed you but at brief intervals and he's why. He provided the outlet that you used to be. And will be again… now."

Erik tilts his head and idly strokes my short cropped hair. I close my eyes and sigh again, wondering for the thousandth time whether cutting it so short was really necessary for my five week trip to Italy.

"It does suit you," he says quietly, responding to my thoughts. "And you were incredibly pleased with its coolness and ease of care while you were there."

"Yeah, I know, and for that I don't regret it. But it's the in between time I hate. I wish it would just grow out already.

"Indeed," he murmurs soothingly and continues to run his long fingers over the spare dark locks. After a moment he speaks again, almost as softly. "What do you mean that I will be your outlet again… now?"

I almost smile. "Already I'm almost starting to feel better talking to you…" I say vaguely. I take a breath and lean my head against his shoulder. "I mean you will be because I don't have the Doctor anymore."

"Ah." Erik wraps his arms more fully around me, thinking. "This is something that began before you went to Italy I think."

"That's right, the day of Beast's graduation party actually. I tried so hard to look decent that day; wore a shirt I loved when I bought it and never again. It wasn't me really, white, with lace bib detailing. One of the few white things I've ever tried on and thought looked decent." I shake my head. "Anyway, after mom and I left Beast's she dropped me at the movie theatre to meet the Doctor. I don't need to bore you describing going to Target while we waited for the movie and the movie itself, which was decent but until I started talking about it I'd half-forgotten we even saw it."

I pause, considering how much to say and how.

"I don't think I'll be free of this unless I bare all of it to you. So, here goes."

I lick my lips, catching the lingering tang of Nyquill, my successful attempt to stave of a oncoming throat cold. Erik squeezes me gently, mercifully silent.

"I wanted him so desperately to kiss me. Just one kiss before I left for Italy, that's all I wanted, wanted so bad I practically ached for it. I knew there was no way we could spend the night together, so that way was out of the question; I thought to do it several times in the movie but hesitated and managed no more than his cheek; I prayed for it out front as we waited for my mom, but if he took any of my hints he didn't act on them, save in giving me big hugs. I suppose I could have, should have, straight out asked for it, but I've never been that bold. God," I shake my head and scoff at myself. "Can you hear me? Bold…" I scoff again thinking of the rashly bold act yet to come.

Groaning softly at the twinge in my back, I sink lower against Erik into the covers.

"I need to sleep."

"Promise to finish this tomorrow; I shall follow you to work to see that you do." Erik responds firmly.

I lift my chin to look into his eyes like sparks in the dim light. "If you promise to kiss me good night."

"I promise."


	32. This Too Shall Pass

**I own nothing.**

~ This Too Shall Pass ~

"Here's me keeping my promise; aren't you happy?"

Erik pauses in his perusal of the newly rearranged Tech Training office to slide a glance at me.

"Yes," he says frankly. "And now, no evasions; continue."

"Right." I cast back for where I left off as Erik continues poking around the office.

"Mom eventually arrived and we gave the Doctor a ride home since he was without a car. WE parted ways with no kiss nor even the chance for one. Tired from a day of unwarranted, excited hope and extended social interaction at Beast's party, I couldn't help agonizing over it and foolishly attempting to categorize my feelings." I roll my eyes helplessly to the heavens. "I'm such an idiot. I knew very well I wouldn't think the same thing about what I was "feeling" as soon as I was rested but still I let myself Skype him when I got home, as you witnessed. That in itself is not the bad part; the bad part, horrible part is how the conversation, short as it was, ended." I stop for a moment and breathe.

Erik looks at me evenly.

"Tell me again, what did you say?

I hide my face behind my hands so I won't have to look him in the eye.

"I said… I think I might be falling in love with you."

Erik drops his eyes thoughtfully. "Hm."

"I knew perfectly well I'd see it differently in the morning and I knew it wasn't wanted—" With a frustrated groan I throw up my hands and bury my head on the desk. "WHY did I say it? What possessed me to be such a fool?"

"The sincere belief that in that moment you meant it?" Erik offers softly. "A convoluted attempt to be "open" with your emotions in a way you are not with anyone else, even your sister?"

I turn my head and glare at him through one bleary eye.

"Exactly, Dr. Freud, thank you." I grumble.

The corner of his mouth twitches up behind the creamy white of his mask.

"And remind me, how did he respond?" he asks lightly.

I sigh. "As I expected he would, that that wasn't good idea. I asked why though I knew the answer to that too – because he is not in love with me. Realizing even the horrible damage I'd done I admitted I shouldn't have said anything, I was too tired and not thinking clearly enough to do this now. He told me to get a good night's sleep or something. I said how sleep wasn't going to take back what I said or fix the damage I'd caused. He said I might be surprised. He shouldn't have done that; it gave me hope."

"Is hope so terrible?"

"It is when I've sent him several messages of varying attempts at apology and pleas for contact over the past couple months with no response. Well, only two responses aside from silence."

"Oh?" Erik drifts over to the counter I employ as a desk and leans against it, watching me.

"One Sunday a few weeks ago I sent a text asking for a word, something; he responded with a jumble of letters and numbers. It was "something" and the presumed sarcasm made me smile. That gave me hope to me too but all I got after that was silence again. And now…" I shake my head. "Lord, what irony."

"Indeed? What irony?"

"The irony that last night, just last night before I started talking to you in earnest again, I decided to do what I should have done weeks ago and take a hint. I swore to myself I would _not_ try to contact him anymore. If he wants me, let him come to me. And now! This morning before I can even triumphantly and cryptically exclaim it on Facebook, I find this Gmail from him."

I pull up the screen and sit back, crossing my arms as Erik gazes at the brief message.

"This too shall pass," he reads softly. "You're a clever girl. I have faith in you." He contemplates it for several moments then turns back to me. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's at least stopped being a jerk and not talking at all. It doesn't change the decision I made last night, but it does make me feel a little better."

Erik plays wantonly with a stray USB mouse.

"It does lend itself to interpretations…" he begins slowly.

"I've already interpreted," I say firmly. "And I don't really expect to get anything more from him. Not anytime soon anyway. In any case, I have you again. Look how much I've written here! That's far more than I've written in months, not counting my journal in Italy." I pause, suddenly almost sad. "Oh. Erik, I didn't bring you along at all when I went."

Erik shrugs carelessly but turns away to hide the broody look in his eyes. I twist in my chair to sit on my knees facing him.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Won't you forgive me?"

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and shrugs again, but after a moment the petulant look fades a little and with half a sigh of resignation he tenderly brushes his black gloved fingers down the side of my troubled face. I smile, satisfied I am forgiven.


	33. A Plunge Against My Vow

~ A Plunge Against My Vow ~

A light breeze rustles the leaves in the tree above me and rolls early-yellowed leaves over the brick walkways that cut in and around the newly redone JFU Field. I lean against one of the curving concrete benches and gaze at the sunny campus before me. A scattered person walking her or there is the only sign of student life; certainly I'm the only one sitting out like this. Small insects drift and flit over the grass. A ladybug alights on the tip of a blade of grass by my foot and perches there in simple yellow splendor. Sometime while I am watching the grass, Erik sweeps nearly silently behind me and settles on the stone bench behind my head. He waits.

"I took a plunge," I say. "I broke the vow I made to myself a few weeks ago and contacted him. Nothing much, just 'A conversation, that's all I'm looking for here. Let me know when.' Now I can only wait and see what happens."

Erik and I watch as a cheerful family walks past on a private tour led by their daughter, a classmate my age, and entertain an amused dialogue among themselves; something about squirrels.

"Was that a very good idea do you think?" Erik asks quietly, his voice just carrying over the breeze.

"I don't know." I pause. "I'm nervous now of course, to see what he says, if anything at all. I drafted the email at least a week ago and took it out everyday to look at, changing miniscule details, hovering over the send button."

"And yesterday, you sent it."

"Yeah." I sit silently for a minute. "But should I have done it. It's been so many days since I first thought of it that I thought I simply didn't want to send it, not right then, that now that I have sent it, it doesn't entirely feel like I did at all. As I logged in to my computer today I had to remind myself that I had."

"And how do you feel about it all? Aside from your natural anxiety."

I shift on the hard bricks on which I sit. "I feel my butt is going numb."

Erik nudges my shoulder impatiently.

"Okay, okay." I poke my foot at a dead leaf like mottled dinosaur skin and try to bring to mind the phrasing I thought of last night. "He wants me to get over him; his silence and all makes that much clear. And, in terms of him as a beau, I am. He has every right not to believe me, but there it is. It's him as a friend and lover that I'm reluctant to give up. I miss being able to talk to him. And I dislike the thought that I might never share my bed with him again."

Erik makes a growl-like noise deep in his throat at this last. I don't respond. He rises and paces silently several feet behind me. He pauses finally and turns back to me.

"I don't know what to tell you, dear. I have nothing for you," he murmurs apologetically.

"That's alright. I only thought I ought to let you know what was happening."

Erik tilts his head to the side and smiles at me.

"You have not quite let go of me then either."

It wasn't a question.


End file.
